A Change of Season
by Christina Hilt
Summary: Hermione Granger starts working on a Potions Project, and begins to realize that maybe Snape isn't as horrible as she's always believed. This is a re-write of The Winds of Change.
1. The Project

**Introduction**

In it's original form, this story was written after the publication of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It does not fit in with books 5 onwards of J.K.R 's universe.

 **Warning**

 **This story is not suitable for readers under the age of seventeen. It contains graphic consensual sex. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.**

* * *

 **A Change of Season**

 **by Christina Hilt**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – The Project**

Now or never, thought Hermione to herself, steeling herself ready to face the uncomfortable conversation she was about to start.

"Professor?" It was the third time this week that Hermione had tried to approach her Potions Master about this, but had, at the last minute, changed her mind on the previous occasions. Now she had his attention and there was no turning back. He turned to her, stiffly, which she took to be an invitation to continue, despite his impassive expression. "I wanted to ask you about my final project, please."

"Indeed?" It seemed that this would be all the response she would get from him, so she continued.

"In History of Magic, I've been studying early developments in Potion Making, and I'd like to do a combined project for the two subjects. Professor Binns has already agreed to it, as long as you approve."

Hermione began to squirm under Snape's penetrating gaze. "And what would this project entail?" he demanded after a long and unnerving silence.

She gulped. "Well, there's very little documented on the development of early healing potions, even for what are considered today's basics. But I've found documents on the work of Rupert the Blood-letter, and Angus Snell Twinklehoff, who seem to have been the first wizards to experiment in this field. I would like to do a research project to prove or disprove whether their work could have led to the first real and working applications of these potions."

Again silence. For a long moment, Snape's expression did not change, then, just for a moment, Hermione thought she could see a hint of approval in his eyes. Then it was gone. He turned away, impatiently, gathering some papers from his desk.

"Your idea may have some possibilities, Ms. Granger, if you can commit to the great amount of effort it would undoubtedly involve. And", he added, "if you can convince me of your competence to work on the practical aspect of the project." He paused.. "I plan to begin reviewing my stores tomorrow evening. Everything must be checked and recorded. If you wish to obtain my approval for this project, you may demonstrate your knowledge of magical ingredients by assisting me in my work. You will also explain in more detail the approach that you will, if permitted, take to developing the potions."

Hermione's heart leapt. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape snorted. "Realize, before you thank me, Ms. Granger, that I am a long way from giving my approval. I will not commit my valuable time to supervising this project unless I am fully satisfied of your ability to complete it effectively." He turned away and began walking briskly to his office. "If you wish to proceed on these terms, report here at 7pm tomorrow, to assist in my stores." And he was gone.

Well, that didn't go too badly, thought Hermione, relieved. In a sense, his offer to test her knowledge of ingredients by working in the stores was a veiled compliment. Very veiled, she thought. Some of the things he had in there were extremely hazardous. He must have some level of confidence in her abilities, otherwise she couldn't have got that far. With this in mind, she hurried to her next class, wondering, as she went, how much time she would be able to spend in the library between now and the next evening. She had some research to do - Snape would not be easy to impress.

* * *

"You agreed to what?" asked Ron, incredulously. "You're going down there tomorrow, to actually help him?"

Hermione sighed - this was exactly the reaction she'd expected. "It's not to help him. It's to convince him to let me do my project."

"Oh, well that explains it. You're going down there in the hope of convincing him to let you do a really tough project that's going to involve tons more work! Say no more!"

"The early development of Potions interests me, Ronald."

Ron simply couldn't understand Hermione, sometimes. Correction. Ron couldn't understand Hermione most of the time, but now was particularly confusing. "Look, if we were allowed to choose our final projects based on our interests, I'd be studying the Chudley Cannons!"

Sometimes, Hermione found her friend's attitude to her studies exasperating, but today she just laughed. "I'll be in the library," she called, stepping towards the portrait hole.

"Really? I'm shocked!" Shaking his head, Ron stared after her, then headed towards Neville. "You'll never guess what Hermione's doing ."

* * *

The thought of being alone in the dungeon with Professor Snape had not seemed so bad at first. Speaking to him after class had been in the cold light of day, in a room only just being deserted by her friends, and when Hermione was on her way to another lesson. Heading down to the dungeon alone, with the darkness drawing in outside, and the prospect of a long time alone with him, made her agreement with the Potions Master seem a different thing altogether.

She had been inside his office once, but only for a moment, with the rest of the class in turmoil outside the door. She had barely had a moment to look round, but she remembered it to be a dark and forbidding place. Apprehension grew as she tried to picture being there with Snape. She suppressed a shudder, then mentally shook herself. Get a grip, Hermione, she thought, forcing herself to knock lightly on the door to the classroom, then, softly push it open.

"Ms. Granger," Snape's voice was almost a snarl as he greeted her. Not a good sign.

"Good evening, Professor." Well, she would be civil, even if he found it too difficult.

Snape looked up from the book that he was writing in on his desk. "I did not expect you to show up, so I made a start without you."

She ignored his comment. "Where would you like me to start, Sir?" she asked, determined not to be dragged down to his level and give him reason to criticize her.

For a moment, he said nothing, as though considering, then stood. "Very well. I've started with the potions in the general stores in here. There's nothing too dangerous here - I couldn't leave anything important around for the likes of Neville Longbottom to drop." He pointed towards the open cabinet, displaying rows of neatly labeled bottles, placed on shelves by students, in a haphazard way that she knew infuriated him. "We shall check all of these before continuing with the more ... potent ... ingredients in my office."

And they were down to business. Hermione reviewed the contents of the bottles, packets and jars, checking stoppers were in place, labels were legible and correct, and re-organizing them into logical order. Snape recorded the items and quantities in the book as she read them out to him. For each ingredient, he would quiz her on its properties, uses and hazards as they worked. Her answers were almost flawless, and he found little to fault, despite the fact that the questions became more difficult as he realized the extent of her knowledge. In classes she always answered when he allowed her, always achieved the required results and good grades, despite being judged more harshly than most, but she had never been given the chance to shine. He seemed surprised as she answered a particularly difficult question about the properties of Silver Beetle wings, and Hermione realized suddenly that she was enjoying this opportunity. It was her chance to demonstrate her true knowledge to him, and the increasing difficulty of his questioning gratified her. She smiled to herself.

"Ms. Granger," Snape's voice caught her unawares, "is something amusing you?"

Should she tell him the truth about why she was smiling? No, that would bring up the issue of his dismissiveness to her in class, and she did not want to discuss that. "Nothing, Sir. Sorry."

"Very well. It is getting late and you have been most helpful. You clearly have an even more thorough knowledge of Potions than I was aware of." _Compliments?_ He continued. "We have not had the opportunity to discuss your plans for your project, but if you would be willing to continue to assist me until the work in my stores is complete ...?"

Hermione risked a smile at him. Unexpectedly, it was genuine. "I'd be happy to. Thank you, Professor."

"Dismissed." His closing word was little more than a grunt from where he appeared deeply engrossed in the book on his desk. This surprised her after what had been an almost civil conversation. She shrugged. Maybe that was the reason - a few too many not-unkind words and he became uncomfortable. The guard had to go back up. She wondered about this, but she wondered more about her own curiosity. Was she really trying to understand this man?

* * *

The next evening followed a similar pattern at first. They were working on the stores held in Snape's office, now, which were far more hazardous and potent than those available in the classroom. Her knowledge of these was less thorough, but the Potions Master seemed willing to use the time to teach as well as test. She learned more in those few hours than she could have done in a week in the library. Her previous nervousness at the thought of working with him in his office barely came to her mind as she found herself deep in conversation on a subject that fascinated her.

She outlined her plans for the experimental potions she wanted to brew for her project, and the results she expected to obtain, and was rewarded with useful suggestions on how to improve her ideas. He hadn't said so directly, but surely this meant that he would approve her project?

At times she began to forget the habitual severity of her teacher, in the light of the relatively easy communication that was becoming possible between them. It came back to her with a jolt, though, as she fumbled a bottle and dropped it. Snape leapt to his feet as it hit the floor and shattered, spilling the black liquid onto the stone, and splashing onto Hermione's feet. Instantly she yelped in pain. It had taken only a second to eat its way through the leather of her shoes. She staggered backwards, unable to think about anything but the burning on her skin.

"Stand still, girl!" ordered Snape, sharply. It was not a voice to be disobeyed, and gave her something to focus on. She watched as his wand was raised, and pointed towards her feet. In her confusion, the words he used did not register, but almost immediately the pain subsided. Her head span. She looked up at him gratefully.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"How could you be so clumsy, you stupid girl," he snarled. "These potions are kept in here for good reasons. You should have more respect for them." The usual coldness was back in his voice, and she had a sudden and terrifying impression of what Neville went through every time he had dropped something in a Potions lesson, which was often. It was not surprising that he had dropped the subject at the first opportunity.

"I'll clean it up," she said helplessly.

"No!" he growled. "You've done enough damage. The freezing spell I placed on your feet is only temporary. Madam Pomfrey has the correct treatment. Report to the Infirmary immediately."

Hermione managed to hold back the tears as she fled through the classroom, but released them as she flew up the stairs to the main castle. How could she have messed things up so badly? Snape's recognition of her had never been particularly important, in comparison to the other teachers. She felt no need to earn the respect of a man she had always disliked so intensely, but now - to feel that she had begun to gain that respect and then lost it - it tore at her pride. Worst of all - there was no chance, now, that he would allow her to work on the project that she so desperately wanted to carry out. She had ruined everything with one clumsy mistake!

She felt the pain coming back to her feet as she hurried towards the Infirmary, but it no longer seemed to matter, compared to her wounded pride and her worry about how she would be able to face Snape the next time they had to meet.

* * *

Hermione was afforded some partial relief in the knowledge that they were unlikely to meet until Monday's Potions lesson, but this was not to be. The incident with the bottle had happened on Wednesday, and she had only one Snape-free day before running into him, almost literally, on Friday afternoon. It happened as her route from Arithmancy to History of Magic took her past the staffroom, just as Snape was stepping out. Looking into her bag for her books as she hurried, she almost collided with him.

"Ms. Granger," his voice stopped her in her tracks. Not now! she thought. A shiver ran down her back. "I trust that Madam Pomfrey was able to counteract the effect of the other evening's clumsiness?"

"Yes, Professor Snape. I'm fine now, thank you," Hermione wasn't quite sure if he'd intended it as a question after her health or simply as a jibe to remind her of her mistake.

"Then I expect you at 7pm to complete the work that we had to cut short. With a great deal more care this time, I might add."

"Sir?" Hermione had not expected this.

"I had intended to complete it yesterday, but as you failed to attend and I was not aware of which items had been checked and which had not, I was forced to postpone the operation."

She was stunned. Surely he didn't want her to continue after what happened? "I didn't think you'd want my help again after my mistake, Sir," she said, genuinely surprised.

His response was quick and irritable in tone. "Do not assume that an error, negligent and intolerable as it was, gives you the right to renege on your commitment."

"No, Professor Snape. Of course. I'll be there at 7 o'clock."

Hermione's next surprise came only a few minutes later when, explaining to Professor Binns that her lateness was due to speaking to Professor Snape, he smiled at her and commented, "Ah, good. Your project, presumably, Miss. Granger? I was so pleased when he told me yesterday that he would be willing to approve the joint project. I'm expecting wonderful things from this!"

* * *

 _A/N (Apr 9, 2018): This was my first upload of a story, in Dec 2001. I'd written a few, but until then I had no idea that other people did the same. I was amazed and relieved to find out about Snapefic. I thought I was crazy, writing down some of my Snape / Hermione fantasies! I was glad to find that I was not alone._

* * *

 **About "A Change of Season" and "The Winds of Change"**

In 2001 I wrote a story called "The Winds of Change" and published it here. It was well-received but controversial because it contained rape. Seventeen years later, my views have changed and if I were writing it today, I would not include rape as part of the story. So I decided to re-write it. "A Change of Season", currently a work-in-progress, is the result.

Some chapters of this story are identical to the original. Some are modified, and some are completely new. There's still lots of sex, but it's all consensual. It's still fantasy, though. Let's face it, in the world of JKR, nothing that happens in this story would ever happen - the trick is to keep everyone 'in character' while allowing them to do things that are 'out of character'. What can I say? It's fanfiction!

* * *

 **Disclaimer**

Most of the characters in this story were created by J.K.R. , not by myself, with the following exceptions:

Some characters appeared as names only in the original Harry Potter stories. I have given them characters.

Alistair Baddock is entirely invented by myself.

The locations in the book were created by J.K.R. , with the following exceptions:

The underground caverns and tunnels

Snape's personal quarters

Snape's home "Haven", including its grounds.

The pubs – "The Star and Spell" and "The Happy Kneazle"

The situations and storyline in this book are my own creation.


	2. Things Unexpected

**Chapter 2 - Things Unexpected**

A quarter to seven found Snape sitting in his office, marking some papers and awaiting the arrival of the Granger girl, as he usually referred to her in his head. She was a strange individual. When she had first arrived at the school, her intelligence had been obvious, but she had been so eager to please and to show off that he had found her one of the most irritating students he had ever met. Over the years, she had managed to curb her need to blurt out every answer, and if it hadn't been for her choice of friends, he would have found her tolerable. It was only towards the middle of the previous year, when the work had required understanding, rather than just knowledge, that he had realized that her comprehension of the intricacies of potion brewing was profound. She had a genuine love of learning and a thirst for knowledge that went far beyond the need to get good marks. He appreciated that, and found himself almost impressed by her.

Of course, she was still annoying. Her infernal cheerfulness irritated him, not to mention the way that she wasted her time helping that useless Longbottom creature. And the fact that she was always with Potter made her difficult to endure.

Having her work with him on the stores had been a good idea. It had given him a chance to assess whether she was someone he could tolerate spending additional time working in his dungeon classroom. It had also served to verify his opinion of her talent and knowledge. Of course, the stores had needed checking and re-organizing for some time, and there was certainly no other student up to the task. The unfortunate accident two evenings ago had been annoying but forgivable, and he had gone to Professor Binns the following day to approve her project request. As far as he was aware, this was the first time in living memory that the History of Magic teacher had been able to remember a student's name.

It was important to keep the girl on her toes, though. He was aware that his severe manner made him unpopular, but it ensured that students did their best work to avoid displeasing him. It also terrified some students, which was rather entertaining. Granger was not one to be intimidated, he realized, but he had no intention of changing his habitual style for anyone.

The girl arrived punctually, and he raised a hand to make her wait while he marked a red D on the last scroll in his pile, and placed it with the others to hand out to his useless second years at their next class. He placed the pile into a cupboard behind him before finally turning to look at her.

"Good evening, Ms. Granger," he said, and she returned the greeting with a slight smile and a calm "Good evening, Sir."

She thanked him for approving her project and he responded with an austere "I would not have done so had I not felt you were capable of it."

They began their task, and had soon settled into the comfortable routine established on the other evenings. The work was productive and they managed to get through most of the stores quickly and efficiently, while he continued to quiz her on the ingredients and their properties. He found it satisfying when he identified something she was not familiar with, and he was able to expand her knowledge.

They were nearing the end of the process now, and he stood to retrieve several bottles that he kept on a top shelf that were out of her reach. He examined the layout of the other neat shelves carefully. She had done a good job, and the layout was clear.

"I think that the infusion of Nightshade should probably be placed with the more potent items on the top shelf," he said, thoughtfully. "I know we have catalogued it already, but I do not see it here."

"I was going to suggest that," she said. "I put it to the back of the second shelf until everything else was done." She stepped forward with her usual helpful enthusiasm, to reach for the bottle. Her body brushed lightly against his as she stepped between himself and the cupboard. He found himself giving a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected contact and stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable, but not knowing exactly why. The girl found the required vial and placed it on the desk, looking momentarily flustered.

"Well," said Snape quickly," we are almost done with these stores. These last few items should take little time." He sat back down at his desk and picked up his quill.

They got through the last few items very quickly, with no discussion of their properties, and no questions from the potions master.

After the last vial was entered into the book and placed into the cupboard, he stood to review the shelves, carefully staying a few paces away from the girl.

"I think that we have done a most satisfactory job, Ms. Granger," he said. There was an awkward pause, and Snape tried to think of what someone with more natural skills at dealing with people would say. His instinct was simply to dismiss her, but he felt that something else should be said. "I appreciate your assistance with this. The work has gone much faster with two of us, and you have shown that your knowledge of potion ingredients is beyond the standard that I would expect from a student." He was talking too much. If he didn't know that it was impossible, he would have said he was babbling. "Thank you," he finished, weakly.

He almost felt like he should shake her hand, and took a step towards her, but on impulse he bent to place a brief kiss on her lips.

Snape stepped away from Hermione in horror.

"Ms. Granger," he said quickly, "I apologize. That was … absolutely inappropriate."

On her face, he saw astonishment and confusion, and a sudden pink flush. Hardly surprising.

"I … " she stammered, "That's okay, Professor. I … erm … should get going now." she seemed to be having difficulty finding words, but struggled on. "My … the practical work for my project … I was hoping to start next week, if that's okay with you, Sir? I was hoping that Monday and Thursday evenings would be …" she trailed off.

Snape seemed snap out of his shock long enough to reply, "Yes … yes that would be fine. Monday."

Hermione turned and hurried out of his office, and he stared at the open door in disbelief. That had to be the most absurd thing he had ever done. What on earth could have possessed him?

He stood and paced his office, unsure of what to do with himself.

In the spur of the moment, he had thought of it as a friendly gesture, completely out of character for him but not uncommon among other people. But, no - he had got it totally wrong. With someone of his own age it would have been awkward and inappropriate, but with a student it was … he couldn't even begin to put it into words.

He thought back to the moment when things had become awkward between them. She had brushed past him, her body briefly touching his, and he had felt a brief moment of … he had to admit it to himself … arousal.

Oh, Merlin, no! He slumped into the chair behind his desk and put his head in his hands.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was empty when Hermione arrived, and she was glad of it. She put her hands on the window sill and stared out into the dark grounds, seeing little but her own reflection mirrored in the glass.

Oh my … she thought. Professor Snape just kissed me.

The first part of the strangeness of the evening had been when she had accidentally bumped into him, reaching for the infusion of Nightshade. She had been about to offer an automatic 'sorry', but his sudden intake of breath and the way he jumped back had confused her. It was as though he were embarrassed by the touch, but why? She would have expected anger, but not embarrassment.

Things had continued to be strange afterwards - his discomfort made her uncomfortable, too. Then he had kissed her.

It was hardly a passionate kiss, more like a peck on the cheek that she might have received from her grandma. But it was a kiss. On the lips. From Professor Snape.

He had looked horrified - well, not so much horrified as shocked, like he couldn't believe he had done it, and it seemed to have taken him by surprise almost as much as her. She couldn't quite figure out what her own reaction was. It had been over before she had had time to register what had happened, and her surprise had blotted out all other thoughts.

She found it easier to define what her feelings _weren't_ \- she wasn't angry or upset in any way, which seemed odd. Neither was she disgusted at the thought of his kiss. Her feelings towards him had varied over the years, sometimes dislike, sometimes a neutral respect, and often even hatred, but during the short time she had been working more closely with him, she had come to almost enjoy his company. When he wasn't bullying students or being nasty to Harry, he was interesting to talk to, easy to work with, and an engaging teacher. No, her feelings about the kiss were not negative, but that was as far as she was prepared to say at this point.

She had barely registered what either of them had been saying after it had happened, but it had seemed like an attempt by both of them to pretend that it had not happened. Maybe that was the best approach, and the way they should continue. She had potions on Monday, which was likely to be the most uncomfortable lesson she had ever had, then she needed to get her project started in the evening. Until then, the best option was to put it out of her mind.

Not surprisingly, the plan not to think about it was an abysmal failure, and that evening in Snape's office took up most of her thoughts for the whole weekend.

* * *

At seven o'clock on Monday, Hermione stepped into the potions classroom.

"Good evening, Sir," she said quietly, and he responded with a calm "Good evening, Ms. Granger," before returning his eyes to the scrolls in front of him.

The potions lesson earlier in the day had been awkward, but not as uncomfortable as she had expected. He had been subdued, giving instructions to the class but not interacting too much with them as they worked. He had barely praised the Slytherins nor criticized the Gryffindors. Instead he had spent most of the lesson at his desk. Several times they had caught each other's eye and glanced away, and Hermione had tried to avoid looking at him. She had left at the end of the class as uncertain as she had arrived, but glad, at least, that this first meeting since Friday was over.

Now, she quietly walked to a workbench and settled down to get herself organized. She pulled out her books and several scrolls before hesitantly addressing the potions master.

"Sir," she began, "I've made a plan for the equipment I'm going to need, and I was wondering if I could set up an area to keep it all together? Is there a shelf in one of the cupboards that I could use, please?"

He nodded and half rose out of his chair as though he planned to help her, but then lowered himself to sit down again. "Certainly. You may choose an unused space in the cupboard where the small glass vials are stored." She chose an area and began collecting the equipment she had listed, organizing it neatly and carefully.

For a while, it seemed like they would be spending their time almost in silence, but after a little while he began asking occasional questions about her work. She answered awkwardly at first, but gradually the formal, stilted conversation relaxed into the easier style they had used while organizing the stores. Almost. Their eyes occasionally met during these exchanges, but it seemed more natural as they were talking, and if their gaze held for a little longer, then surely that was natural, too.

Hermione's Thursday session in the dungeon continued much as the the Monday one had, and though he still seemed reluctant to say much to her during the following potion lesson, his manner with the other students seemed back to normal. Now that so many students had given up potions, the sixth-year NEWT classes had been combined to include all four houses, but still with a smaller class size than the previous year. One of the Hufflepuff students - Wayne Hopkins - seemed to have taken Neville's place as the teacher's favourite target for sneering comments and it irritated Hermione, but Wayne ignored it, seeming far more able to cope with it than Neville ever had.

By the following Thursday, the atmosphere in the dungeon was more comfortable, and Hermione found that she was beginning to enjoy their conversation once again. There was still a strangeness in their interactions, making her feel somewhat awkward when their eyes held for a moment, but she was beginning to find it a pleasurable disquiet, rather than apprehension.

She was working on preparing some roots that she would need for several experiments, and was finding it tedious. Professor Snape, too, seemed to be a little restless. He dropped his quill on the desk and ran a hand through his hair.

"These fourth year assignments are little better than I would expect from first years," he sighed. "The problem with assigning homework is that I am then forced to read it."

Hermione suddenly found that she was feeling a little impish. She gave a slightly mischievous smile. "How about we trade?" she asked. "You finish preparing these roots for me, and I'll finish marking those essays."

He raised his eyebrows and seemed to consider the proposal.

"I promise I won't be too lenient, and I'll add a few scathing remarks to make it look like you marked it," she said, rolling her eyes.

Although his face barely changed, she thought she could detect a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Very well," he said, finally, and got up to switch places with her. It seemed very odd to be sitting at Professor Snape's desk while he sat like a student at a workbench, but she found it kind of fun. He had already marked a few of the scrolls, and she read the others with interest. True to her word, she tried to mark as severely as she knew he would, but the comments she added in a passable copy of his handwriting tended to err on the side of helpful, rather than simple criticism.

"Done," she said at last, and piled the scrolls neatly on his desk.

"And this final batch," he said, "will be finished stewing momentarily." He looked up as she approached. "Is it done to your satisfaction?"

She smiled, without answering the question. "Thank you, Professor," she said.

Their eyes met and held each other's gaze. Hermione did not know which of them made the move, or if it was simultaneous, but a moment later their lips met. It was a gentle kiss, but as he slowly slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, the gentleness gave way to passion. Their bodies were responding to each other, pressing closer, feeling a sense of urgency surging through them.

Hermione's mind was whirling. She was kissing Professor Snape! He was a teacher and he was cruel and unreasonable, and she had hated him for much of the time she had been at Hogwarts. But he was intelligent and passionate, and his tongue was hungrily caressing hers. She had never felt so aroused.


	3. Passion

**Chapter 3 - Passion**

It was Snape who pulled away from the kiss. Firmly, he took her arms, which had wrapped about his neck, and disengaged them. The eyes that were fixed on his had fire in them, but he turned away and strode several paces before turning to face her again. Their breathing was heavy, and he longed for that touch that had been broken so abruptly. They stared at each other.

"We can't do this," Snape said firmly. "However much we want to, we mustn't"

Her voice was unnaturally calm. "I know."

Snape continued, wondering whether he was trying to convince himself or her. "I am a professor. You are a student. You're so young. It's just … wrong."

"I know," she said again. "I think I'd better go." But she didn't move.

There was silence for a moment, then Snape said, his voice a low monotone, "I'll finish off this batch of roots and put your equipment away."

Hermione started to say something, but Snape didn't want to hear it. "Go!" he snapped.

He watched her as she headed for the door to the dungeon classroom and left. His eyes stared, unseeing, at the closed door for a long time before he slowly approached the workbench to finish his task.

* * *

"So, how are things going with Snape?" asked Harry the next morning. "Is he as horrible when you're working on your project as he is in lessons?" They were in Transfiguration, working on conjuring chairs.

Unbidden, a memory formed in Hermione's mind of strong arms around her, and passionate lips on hers.

The focus of the Transfiguration lesson was supposed to be on getting the ornate wooden carving exactly like the one Professor McGonagall had created, but Harry was having difficulty getting his chair even to be the right height. Ron's latest attempt had only three legs.

Hermione pushed the feeling of guilty arousal aside, searching for a way to respond to Harry's question without lying. "He's okay," she said. "He's very interesting to talk to, and I'm learning a lot."

Ron pulled a face. "You're learning _more_? Isn't one potions lesson a week with that git enough for you?"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, he's not that bad."

"Yes he is," stated Harry and Ron together, and Hermione had to admit that Snape's attitude towards them in lessons was as unpleasant as ever.

It was so confusing - trying to reconcile the harsh, vindictive bully with the stoic but engaging teacher she she had been spending time with over the last couple of weeks. And now this attraction that seemed to have come from nowhere and taken them both by surprise. And that kiss.

She tried to remain noncommittal in her responses while Harry and Ron continued their familiar Snape-bashing. Her mind was more focused on her problem of how to deal with the current situation between herself and the Potions Master. Torn between dislike, respect and attraction, how was she supposed to interact with him in lessons or while she was working on her project? How would he act around her? She wasn't due to see him until Monday's potions lesson, three days from now, and she felt that that should be some comfort to her, but the part of her mind that kept drifting back to their kiss wanted to see where that kiss might have led.

No. Snape was absolutely right - they mustn't. That way madness lay.

She gave herself a mental shake and forced her attention back to transfiguration. The carvings on her chair were just not right.

* * *

Saturday was a long day. The thoughts that plagued her were like a repeating loop in her mind: how much the attraction between her and Snape was a bad idea; how she couldn't decide whether his recent civility and even pleasantness could ever make up for his previous vileness; how much she wanted to know what could have happened if he hadn't broken off their kiss.

Several times during the day, she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander back to the dungeon and to the feeling of his body pressed against hers and the sensations that had begun to take her over as they kissed.

She couldn't help looking for him at the staff table at breakfast and lunch, to no avail. Not that she was sure if she wanted to see him there or not.

In the evening, she headed down to the Great Hall with Harry and Ron, and felt her stomach flutter as she automatically looked to the staff table. He was there, and he saw her immediately. Had he been watching for her? The students headed to their usual seats and Hermione felt, or perhaps imagined, or perhaps hoped, that his eyes followed her.

Despite trying studiously to avoid glancing towards him, her gaze kept being drawn back as they ate, and more often than not, he was watching her surreptitiously. Reading his expression was as impossible as it almost always was.

As they were finishing dessert, Snape stood and began walking down the hall to the exit. Harry and Ron chose that moment to stand, and Harry almost collided with the teacher.

"Watch where you are going, Potter," he snarled. He turned to Hermione as she was standing to leave. "Ms. Granger, if I could have a word with you about your project, in my office?"

"Now?" asked Ron.

Snape scowled at him, then looked back to Hermione. "Now," he said.

He waited for her nod, then turned to stride toward the dungeons. Hermione grimaced apologetically at Harry and Ron, then followed in the teacher's wake.

She didn't catch up with Snape until they reached the dungeon classroom. She followed him through the door and closed it behind her.

They stood motionless for a long moment, their eyes locked, then they closed the distance between them and kissed. It was as though the last two days had never existed and they were back in the moment when they had kissed before. Their arms wound around each other, and the sense of urgency in their kiss was immediate. His hands were on her back and in her hair, caressing her and pulling her close.

Their bodies pressed fervently together and Hermione slid her hands to his hips. She was amazed at her own boldness, and how fast things were progressing, but this somehow felt natural. She could feel his hardness against her body through their robes, and she pulled him towards her, pressing her hips against him.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, pulling his lips away from hers to study her face intently. In answer, she pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at the door. They heard the quiet click of the lock, and their lips met once more.

He backed her towards a workbench and lifted her to perch on the edge. She parted her knees to draw him in as he stood before her, the tongue exploring her mouth more hungry than ever.

* * *

Snape didn't care. He didn't care that she was a student and that he could be fired for what he was doing. He didn't care that part of him - the part that had seen her arrive at Hogwarts just a few short years ago - still thought of her as a little girl. The woman in his arms was just that - a woman - beautiful and sensual, and as desirous of him and he was of her.

Her fingers were tugging at the buttons of the trousers he favored over the more common tunic. Never had they felt more restrictive. His hands moved to her smooth thighs and slid upwards under her skirt, his fingers wrapping around the sides of her underwear. Sliding them under her, he stepped back slightly to pull them off her. Then, below the still-tightly-fastened buttons of his frock coat, he undid the last two buttons of his trousers and pushed them to his knees.

As his hardness found her entrance he locked his eyes on hers. She was so incredibly wet and ready for him, and with a swift motion he pushed inside her, hard and deep, watching her face as she gasped. It felt like his whole body was immersed in hers in exquisite passion. Then they were kissing again, and her slender hips were pushing towards him, matching the motion of his thrusts. He pushed her backwards onto the unyielding bench, crushing her body under his. She let out a soft moan as his rhythmic thrusting grew faster, and he heard a moan of his own echo it. Holding himself back a little, he slowed his thrusts to make her yearning body wait. With every moment he could feel her tension increase. Finally he felt like neither of them could wait a second longer. His body tensed and spasmed as he released into her and she let out a cry of passion as they climaxed together.

As their breathing grew calmer, he rested his head next to hers and murmured her name into her hair. "Hermione!"

* * *

It was the first time Hermione had heard him speak her name, and she liked it, but it sounded so strange. The whole situation was unbelievable - words and actions that were totally incongruous with the voice and face of the man murmuring her name.

He was still very much Professor Snape - they were in his classroom, the domain where they were student and teacher. Although it was the weekend, and Hermione was wearing what were basically muggle clothes, his billowing robes were the same ones he wore all the time - as much a uniform to him as her usual school skirt and Gryffindor colours were to her.

She let out a long sigh. "That was …" she paused, unable to find the right word.

"Intense." Snape finished the thought perfectly.

He kissed her, then pushed himself up from the bench. Hermione winced as she moved her back on the hard surface. She stretched her body as he pulled up his trousers and fastened them, then she accepted his outstretched hands and he pulled her up. Still perched on the edge of the bench, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

"It is getting late," he said, pulling away from her. "Time that you should be getting back to the Gryffindor Tower.

She nodded and jumped down from the bench. Awkwardly, she picked up the underwear that he had dropped to the floor, and pulled them on.

He started to turn away from her, but half turned back, not meeting her eyes. "I think," he said, "that things should be easier between us now. Hopefully, getting this out of our systems will enable us to work together without us getting so distracted. We can get our minds back on our work." He turned to stride towards his office, giving her a dismissive "Good night, Ms. Granger," as he did so.


	4. Anger Overheard?

**Chapter 4 - Anger Overheard?**

From the top of the astronomy tower, the landscape stretched out all around, vague shapes in the darkness. The waxing moon gave very little light, so the stars were bright and clear. Hermione placed a cushioning spell on the stone floor and lay back, looking up at the sky. She had a lot to think about, and had wanted somewhere to be alone.

She had had sex before … twice … with Viktor Krum. Uncertain fumbling in secluded areas of the school grounds, leading to pleasurable but unsatisfying experiences. Satisfaction she had had to learn for herself, exploring her own body and learning how to please herself. There was nothing uncertain or fumbling about what had happened tonight, and Snape had known just how to move within her to bring her to a climax so much more powerful than anything she had experienced alone. Tonight had been fervent, passionate … as Snape had said, "intense." It had been a wonderfully physical experience. Their bodies had been hungry for each other, enjoying the carnal pleasure of abandon and impulse.

But had it been just physical? Would it have been possible for her to have been so turned on by his kisses and the way he made her body feel if she hadn't also been aroused by his mind?

That hardly mattered, though. His actions afterwards made it clear that it was something he considered over and done. For him, it had been entirely sexual - a physical attraction that he had to 'get out of his system'. Perhaps he was right, and this was something they just needed to get over.

What was the alternative? She could hardly want a relationship with Snape. Despite the attractions of his intelligence, he was still unpleasant. His manner of 'dismissing' her tonight had been cold and his attitude heartless and offensive. His sudden disregard had made her feel small and used, with whatever feelings she might have had being brushed aside.

"What did you expect, girl?" said a voice inside her head. His voice. "A declaration of undying love? Happily ever after?"

She lay for a long time, going over the evening in her memory and trying to disentangle her thoughts. His voice sounded in her head again - not the impassive voice of his parting words, but the soft huskiness of her name whispered in her ear.

As she lay staring at the stars, tears of anger and confusion began to roll from her eyes. By the time she made her way back to the Gryffindor tower, cold and exhausted, the common room was deserted and she slipped quietly up to her bed.

* * *

The plan had been for Ron, Harry and Hermione to spend Saturday evening after dinner getting some work done. Professor McGonagall had set them a long essay on achieving detail in surface textures when conjuring, which Hermione had agreed to help the others with.

"Where were you?" Ron asked, the following morning. "It's bad enough that Snape would call you to his office at the weekend just to talk about your project, but he can't have kept you for that long!"

Hermione hated lying to her friends, but she really felt she had no choice. "No, but there was something else I remembered I needed to work on, so I went to the library."

"We didn't see you there," Harry commented. "We checked."

"You must have just missed me," she said, evasively. "Did you get any of your Transfiguration essays done.?"

"Nah," said Ron, "but I made a start on some work for Hagrid. "He wants an outline for my project by the end of next week, so I figured I'd better decide what I want to do."

She was amazed. "You haven't even decided, yet? What about you, Harry?"

Harry looked guilty. "I've decided, but I just haven't worked out the details," he muttered. "We're not all as eager as you to get to work on this, Hermione."

"McGonagall wants this essay by Tuesday, though," said Ron, grumpily, "so I suppose we'd better get working on it now that you're here."

Hermione was glad of the distraction that the essay gave her, and wrote three feet more than Professor McGonagall had asked for. Her time would have been better spent working on her project, but that would lead her mind back to the dungeon, from which she was trying to keep her thoughts.

Harry and Ron, meanwhile, were suspicious. "Where do you think she was last night?" Ron wondered as they headed up to their room that night. "We were in the common room till almost midnight, and she definitely wasn't in the library when we checked there."

"She didn't even have her bag with her when she went with Snape after dinner," added Harry. "There's definitely something she's not telling us."

* * *

Since the first week arriving at Hogwarts, Potions had been Harry's least favourite subject and it had failed to move up his popularity list at any time since. Snape's mood was foul, as always. He wore a scowl on his face and he was pacing the dungeon like a caged tiger. Unusually, though, his mood seemed to be causing as much of a problem for the Slytherins as for everyone else. Malfoy, for instance, was the recipient of a growled "Stupid boy!" for being unable to name the three basic uses of Gillyweed, and Theodore Nott lost Slytherin ten points for spilling his potion into Pansy Parkinson's bag. He was more horrible than ever to Wayne Hopkins, but amazingly, Snape actually paid a compliment to a Gryffindor. Harry never would have believed it, but he heard the words "Excellent, Ms. Granger," as Hermione's potion turned to the grass-green hue that was required.

Hermione, however, was also in a peculiar mood and had been grumpy since breakfast, saying that she hadn't slept well. She scowled into her cauldron and did not acknowledge the compliment at all. Harry turned to Ron in puzzlement, but his friend just shrugged.

When Snape began quizzing the class on memory potions, the bizarre behavior continued. Harry had discovered, the previous year, that an amazingly successful tactic to avoid being asked a question during this class was to look like he knew the answer. It was so successful that Harry had even taken to putting his hand up when he didn't have a clue, just to be certain that he wouldn't be asked. Thankfully, this was not one of those occasions as, unbelievably, Snape picked him, then answered with a terse "Correct!" Hermione's hand was not in the air, which was odd in itself, but Snape chose that time to ask her a question. Her answer was, of course, perfect, despite its curtness, but Snape paused for a moment before his rumbled "Correct," then moved on.

The rest of the class went ahead relatively normally. Snape sneered at Ron's gray mixture, bubbling in his cauldron, and took 20 points from Hufflepuff when Hannah Abbott added too much shredded bat wing, causing her concoction to release clouds of black fumes. At the end of the lesson, he assigned them a particularly difficult essay to be handed in by Friday. As the class packed up, Snape's voice cut through those of the students, "Ms. Granger. I need to discuss your project with you. Return here for a few minutes after your final class of the day."

She must have heard him, but gave no indication of it as she left the room, followed by a puzzled Harry and Ron.

* * *

Hermione was furious as she stormed down to the dungeon after her last class. "What the hell was all that about this morning?" she demanded. "Do you have any idea how suspicious my friends are already, without you acting the way you did?"

Snape's voice was icy. "What?" he rumbled, dangerously.

"Do you realize that since the first day I arrived at Hogwarts, that's the first time you've ever done anything but sneer at my work in class?" she fumed. "What are people supposed to think?"

"They are supposed to think, Ms. Granger," - Snape's voice was ominously low - "that I expressed satisfaction with the work of a student. I believe that, as a teacher, I have that prerogative?"

"Not when ... "

Snape interrupted. "As for my behavior, I hardly think you are in a position to criticize, considering your own little display. Did you think that your refusal even to acknowledge me would avert attention?"

"I was just trying to cover for your mistake!"

Snape's voice until now had been quiet, but now it rose with impatience.

"Then how am I supposed to act around you, if today was a 'mistake', as you put it?" His anger brought out the worst in her.

"Well, maybe you should consider that kind of thing before you have sex with students," she snapped.

He pulled out his wand and she drew in a sharp breath. He flicked it at the door, which slammed with a bang that reverberated around the dungeon classroom.

"That is not something I make a habit of" he barked. "Do you really believe that there has ever been another student who has made me feel like this?"

"Well now that you've got me 'out of your system', you'd better figure out a way to handle classes, because another lesson like this morning and anyone with half a brain will start wondering what's going on."

He gave a mirthless snort. "You think you're out of my system?" He glared at her. "I have spent every moment of the last two days thinking about you."

Hermione stared at him, feeling the anger beginning to drain from her. She had not moved from the back of the classroom since she had arrived, and she stayed there, somehow feeling that they needed to stay apart until certain things had been said.

"You acted like you didn't care," she said quietly. "Like you couldn't wait to be rid of me."

His face darkened. "I was _trying_ not to care. This … whatever it is that is happening between us … should not be happening, but I cannot make it stop." He took a deep breath. "And I don't want to make it stop. I don't want to …"

The knock at the door made both of them jump. It opened and in stepped Professor Dumbledore. "Ah, Greetings, Miss. Granger. I'm sorry to interrupt - discussing your History and Potions project, I presume - I just wanted a word with Professor Snape." His genial face showed no indication that anything was amiss.

Hermione forced herself to smile back. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore. I was just leaving."

Snape's voice followed her as she reached the door. "We will continue this discussion very soon, Ms. Granger."

"Yes, Professor Snape." She stepped out of the dungeon.

* * *

The door to the dungeon classroom was left slightly ajar as the Headmaster exited, leaving the Potions Master alone.

Dumbledore had not been there long. He had called in to discuss a matter relating to inter-house co-operation between prefects - something with which the Slytherins appeared to have a great deal of difficulty. He had said nothing relating to Hermione.

What had Dumbledore heard? It could have been part or all of their earlier conversation. If the headmaster had been on his way into the classroom at the wrong moment, he could even have heard Hermione's statement about them having sex, and had the door slammed in his face! Visions of being fired and banished from the castle filled his mind. He felt his stomach knot. This was exactly why he had tried so hard to ignore his feelings about her, and not let anything happen between them.

And yet - nothing had been said about it once Hermione had left. The door had been closed and, towards the end at least, they had been speaking quietly. Maybe Dumbledore had heard nothing, and what Snape was feeling was simply paranoia.

But this was Dumbledore! The wizard had a way of knowing things that he couldn't possibly know.

No. If Dumbledore had heard anything, he couldn't have ignored it. He would have confronted Snape at once.

He sighed. What did it matter? He had tried ignoring his feelings for Hermione to no avail. He did't think he could push those feelings aside, whatever the consequences.

"You fool," he told himself. "Prepared to risk everything for an infatuation with a student? You don't even know how she feels about you."

* * *

Hermione had headed to the Gryffindor common room and tried to get some work done before dinner, without much success. Over and over, she repeated the exchange in her head, picturing Professor Dumbledore's horrified face outside the door as he listened to the conversation he had inadvertently interrupted.

What had he said to Snape after she'd gone? Maybe he had wanted to confront him about it without her there. Maybe even now, Snape was packing his bags to leave the castle. No, surely he would have talked to her before firing him.

She had to find out.

She headed towards the Great Hall with Ron and Harry at dinner time, but stopped in the doorway. A glance showed her that Dumbledore was there, but Snape was not. She made a quick excuse to her friends about not being hungry, and hurried to the dungeon.

Hermione rushed into the classroom, quickly checked that the teacher was the only one there, and turned to lock the door after her. Snape had been pacing, and he hurried to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"What did Professor Dumbledore overhear?" she demanded, breathlessly.

"Maybe nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "He _said_ nothing."

"I was worried he might have fired you," she sighed in relief.

Snape took a deep breath, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "Hermione, I don't know what this is that's going on between us."

"I don't know, either," she said softly, "but I want to find out."

Gently, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. It was not a kiss like before - full of hunger and passion - this was a kiss of tenderness. His tongue caressed hers softly and gently. It relaxed rather than aroused her, making her feel secure and warm. She had never felt like this before. All thoughts of Dumbledore and their earlier anger disappeared in the peace of the embrace.

Their lips parted and she rested her head on his chest, enjoying the feeling of being held by him.

"Severus," she whispered. "Where do you live?"

He paused, then said, "Let me show you."


	5. In Severus' Bed

**Chapter 5 - In Severus' Bed**

Snape led Hermione to the back of the classroom and tapped his wand on the stone wall. Immediately, it dissolved to show a short corridor leading to a sturdy door. He pushed it open and they stepped into a room that she instantly loved.

It was furnished elegantly, with two comfortable wing chairs angled towards a large fireplace. A small round table stood next to each chair, one of them holding a pile of books. At the back of the room stood a small mahogany dining table large enough for two, but with only one place setting. The carpet was a simple rich burgundy, and a matching curtain covered a doorway to the side. But the thing that Hermione loved was the fact that almost every wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The room was a little piece of heaven.

As Hermione began to explore the bookshelves, Snape slipped off his robes. With deliberate precision, he unbuttoned his frock coat, removed the black cravatte, and draped them over a chair. He lit a fire with a flick of his wand, and relaxed into one of the wing chairs, watching her. She gazed around the room happily.

"I see that you approve of my library," he commented. Hermione turned to him and was amazed at how different he looked. His high-collared white shirt was loose-fitting and open at the neck, making her glad that she had changed out of her uniform and into jeans and a soft sweater. He looked more at ease than she had ever seen him. There was even a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

"I don't ever remember seeing you smile before, " she said. "I like it."

He raised an eyebrow. "I smile," he said.

Hermione laughed. "You sneer," she corrected. "Occasionally you smirk. Smiling is different!"

The smile twitched. "Seeing you happy gives me pleasure," he said.

She turned back to the books. Most were old volumes, leather-bound and well-worn. The titles showed most to be related to potions, and she longed to pick some up and start reading but she moved on. In one corner, the books were shut behind glass doors. A glance at the titles showed them to be related to the dark arts.

"My library is at your disposal, Hermione," he said, "but the books in that area are very dangerous. You won't ever need to use them, but if you want to look at them do not do so without me."

"I won't," she assured him, and moved on to other shelves. She stopped in surprise. "I wouldn't have imagined you reading fiction," she said. She ran her fingers along some of the spines; Charles Dickens ... H.G. Wells … Arthur Conan Doyle … Shakespeare ...

"Shakespeare?" she asked.

"He has some interesting thoughts on the subject of death," he commented, wryly.

She turned from the bookshelves and perched on the arm of his chair, twisting her body to face him.

"It seems strange to see you like this," she said, "outside the role of potions master. It's like you've taken off a mask."

He gazed at her, solemnly. "It's not a mask, Hermione, but it _is_ a kind of barrier between myself and everything outside." Hermione said nothing, and waited for him to go on. "There are terrible things in my past - things that I'm not ready to share with you just yet. My thoughts and emotions can be volatile. The face that I present to the world is not false, but it is guarded, and it helps me maintain a level of command of my thoughts and feelings. It is why I felt that I had to push you away the other evening. I felt that I had let my guard slip and that I was not in complete control, which surprise me … and scared me. I worry that I pushed you into something you were not ready for."

Hermione put her hand up to his cheek. "Severus, I wasn't pushed into anything. We had a very … physical … response to each other. I've never felt anything so intense. I know what you mean about feeling out of control, but I think we were just giving in to what we both wanted so much. I have no regrets about what happened, apart from how hurt I was by the way you spoke afterwards."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking away.

She put her hand under his chin and lifted his head up to kiss him, then she pulled out her wand and pointed it in his direction. He looked puzzled but then almost laughed as she muttered a spell which widened his chair enough for two people.

She sat beside him, pulling his arm around her shoulder, and they sat in silence, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

"I have never allowed anyone into these rooms before," said Severus, after a long stillness.

Hermione smiled. "Then I'm honoured to be invited. It does seem odd that you have two chairs, though, if you don't have guests."

"I suppose it is. It just didn't seem right with only one."

She turned to him. "Maybe you should give me a tour."

He looked a little puzzled. "There's only this room, the bedroom and the bathroom," he said. "Not very much to see."

She smiled coyly. "The bedroom sounds like it might be interesting." She kissed him then stood, pulling him to his feet. Taking him by the hand, she led the way through the curtain which she was sure must lead to the bedroom.

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes as Severus pushed her hair away from her face and put his lips to her ear.

"Hermione," he whispered. His tender kisses made their way down her neck to her shoulder, as his hand slipped under her sweater to caress her back. It felt warm and strong. He took his time before slowly pulling her top off over her head. She sighed as he ran his hands down her raised arms, enjoying the feeling of his touch on her skin.

He lifted her in his arms and lowered her to his bed, straddling her legs and gazing down at her soft skin. He bent to kiss her lips, then gently tipped back her head so his mouth could work its way down her chin and throat, laying a trail of kisses down to the hollow between her breasts. With his tongue, he began following the line of her bra across her chest, teasing at the lace. When his hand slid under her to unclasp the bra, it was his tongue that pushed the fabric aside, finding her nipple and eliciting a soft breath of pleasure from Hermione. His fingers moved to caress the other nipple as his tongue and teeth gently toyed with her.

Hermione found her body inexorably arching to meet his touch as he explored her breasts, torn between enjoying the unhurried attention and her eagerness to know what the next touch would bring.

Severus stood and began to unbutton his shirt, then his trousers, his eyes never leaving her body. She stretched luxuriantly under his gaze, enjoying the look of desire on his face. She reached down to begin unfastening her jeans, but he stopped her with a soft but commanding "No."

"I'll do it," he said, stepping out of his trousers and straddling her once again, dressed only in black boxer shorts and his open white shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders.

He bent to kiss her navel, and continued his journey downwards. The soft touch of his lips tickled enticingly on her abdomen as he unfastened the button of her jeans and slowly coaxed down the zip. As he slid the jeans down, his kisses moved to her hips, along the line of her panties, making her quiver with anticipation. Her jeans were discarded and she held her breath, waiting for the touch that she wanted so much.

Instead, he ran his hands lightly up and down her legs, feeling the smooth skin. He slid a hand under one of her knees, lifting up her leg and lowering his head to trail kisses along the inside of her thigh. He reached her crotch, and she could feel his breath as he passed over the fabric of her panties to tease her other thigh.

Finally, his lips touched the fabric that she knew had to be wet. He placed tiny, barely perceptible kisses over the cotton and inhaled deeply. He pushed the lace aside, and his tongue slid between her folds. She moaned in pleasure, almost at climax already from her body's response to his sensual touches. Her panties soon joined her jeans on the floor, and his hands slid beneath her buttocks, lifting her upwards to meet him. The feel of his tongue on her clitoris was everything she had anticipated. Her breathing grew fast and ragged as her excitation built, but as she felt she was about to release he slowed her down, holding her back until he allowed her passion to swell once more.

"Severus!" she beseeched, breathlessly. "What are you doing to me?"

At this, his tongue worked her to a frenzied climax, moaning his name and gripping the sheets of his bed in fervor. Her body was convulsing with waves of passion. His tongue jabbed at her once more, even when she thought she had nothing left, and a final spasm shot through her body.

Spent, she lay panting, trying to calm her breath. Severus kissed her stomach, then shrugged off his shirt and underwear. He covered her body with his own as her breathing slowed, and kissed her lips tenderly. He pushed himself into her, and their bodies began to move in harmony.

Hermione's hands were on his hips, pulling him toward her with every thrust. Her legs curled about him, taking him deep inside.

His movements grew faster and Hermione felt her body ready to join with his once again. His deep thrusts brought her body to its peak along with his, and they held each other as they climaxed.

They lay still, trembling slightly as their bodies relaxed, until eventually Severus pulled out of her and lay at her side.

"That felt so good," Hermione sighed.

Severus murmured in agreement. "Perfect," he whispered.

* * *

Hermione was asleep, but Severus Snape did not want to sleep yet. He lay watching the young witch in his arms. She was so peaceful and calm. His own sleep was, too often, plagued by nightmares and memories he would rather forget, but he had a feeling he would sleep peacefully tonight.

He thought about everything that had happened over the last few weeks: spending time working together in the classroom and his office; the sudden and startling realization that he was attracted to her; agonizing over how wrong it was and how he could put it behind him. And then the acceptance that this was not something he could ignore, the urgent passion in the classroom, and now this time of bliss, making love to her in his bed. He was attracted to her in a way that he couldn't understand, willing to risk everything to be with her.

She was beautiful and passionate, and her body made him wild with desire for her, but he knew that it wasn't just about that. Never before had he had so much pleasure from bringing pleasure to a woman. He knew how to make a woman beg for his touch, and how to bring her to climax over and over again, but it had always been about his own gratification, not hers. He knew, also, that the women he'd had before had cared nothing about him, and that their motivations were as narcissistic as his own. Tonight had been all about Hermione: everything done for her pleasure, without a thought for himself. And he knew, somehow, that she would not be here with him if she did not have genuine feelings for him. How deep did those feelings go, he wondered? How deep did his own feelings go?

He was drawn to her mind, her thirst for knowledge, her passion, her talent, her soul. At the back of his mind, the word 'love' crept into his consciousness, but he pushed it aside. He barely knew her.

Feeling both unnerved and warmed by his thoughts, he rested his head next to hers on his pillow and moved his naked body closer against hers. A few minutes later, he was sleeping as contentedly as she was.

* * *

 _A/N 15/Apr/2018: It may be a few days before I can post again. Had a death in the family. I may be writing or maybe not. Reviews are always very welcome._


	6. Companionship

**Chapter 6 - Companionship**

Harry could barely breathe. He fought to push the great weight off his chest and the huge face away from his own. Ron was sniggering.

"Get off 'im, Fang!" bellowed Hagrid, and the hound bounded away.

Harry accepted Ron's offer of a hand to pull himself up, wiping drool from his face.

"I think he might have broken a rib," Harry groaned.

Hagrid laughed. "Anyway, what were yer tellin' me about 'ermione?" he asked, continuing the conversation they had been having while walking to his hut after Care of Magical Creatures.

"She acting weird," said Ron. "Last night, she said she wasn't hungry and missed dinner. We were up until after midnight, and she didn't come back to the common room. We didn't see her again until this morning."

"And on Saturday," added Harry, "Snape wanted to talk to her right after dinner. She said she went to the library after that, but we went there and couldn't find her. We were supposed to work on Transfiguration together."

"She's definitely not telling us something," said Ron.

Hagrid gave an amused chuckle.

"Sounds like 'ermione's got a boyfriend!"

Harry looked at Hagrid in surprise. This had not occurred to him, but it was certainly a possibility. Ron was skeptical, though.

"Nah, she would have told us."

"I think Hagrid might be right," Harry told him. "She's definitely being sneaky about something."

"Well, don't you two go askin' her about it," Hagrid instructed. "If she wants yer to know, she'll tell yer. Anyway, yer'd better get back up to the castle for lunch, and yer'd better start working on yer projects today. I'm glad yer've both chosen Care of Magical Creatures fer one of yer projects, but yer'd better get a move on. I heard 'ermione's been working on hers for weeks."

* * *

Hermione had woken that morning with Severus' arms around her. She had felt warm and comfortable, but needed to get moving in order to get to the Gryffindor tower and change before breakfast. Severus had refused to let her out of the bed without a long good-morning kiss, but after that she had showered hurriedly and run to her room, reaching it only just in time to avoid being spotted by the early-risers on their way to the common room.

She knew that her vague answers about having 'things to do', did not satisfy Harry and Ron when they questioned her at breakfast about where she had been the night before. By lunch, they had given up on the questions but continued to regard her suspiciously. She sighed. I suppose that's the way it will have to be, she thought.

In Arithmancy class that afternoon she was approached by Oliver Rivers, a tall fair-haired Hufflepuff who was also in her Potions class. She didn't know him well, but she knew him to be friendly and hard-working.

"Hi, Hermione, I wanted to ask you something."

She smiled, expectantly.

"What's Snape like, while you're working on your project? Is he like he is in lessons, or does he lighten up a bit?"

Hermione was surprised and puzzled by the strangeness of the question.

"He's okay," she said. "He's actually quite helpful if I have questions. Why?"

"Well, Stephen Cornfoot and me have chosen potions for one of our projects. We're starting working on it tonight, if Snape says we can. Will you be there?"

Hermione had not planned on working in the dungeon that night, but as she hadn't got any work done the night before it wasn't a bad idea. At least this way, she wouldn't be able to get distracted. She agreed to meet the two Hufflepuffs after dinner, and walk down to the dungeon with them.

Harry and Ron seemed very interested in this news when she told them, and Ron in particular was not very subtle in the way he craned his neck to look across the Great Hall at Oliver and Stephen.

"And they've actually chosen Potions for their projects?" he asked. "Who in their right mind would do that?"

"Thank you, Ronald," Hermione commented, acerbically.

"You know what I mean," he muttered.

Hermione caught Oliver's eye at the Hufflepuff table as they observed Professor Snape get up from the staff table and head towards his classroom. She grabbed her bag and headed to meet him and Stephen at the doorway. Ron and Harry watched with interest as they left.

* * *

"Rivers, Cornfoot," Snape greeted them dispassionately as they arrived. "Ms. Granger."

"Good evening, Professor," said Hermione, with a carefully restrained smile. Snape merely nodded. The two boys looked awkward as they began to take out books from their bags.

"Before I allow the two of you begin your work, I have questions for you regarding the methods you plan to use in your projects." Snape was the usual stern, impassive figure that the two boys had expected of the Potions Master. "You, Ms. Granger," he said coldly, "should continue with your work with a little more focus than on your last visit to my classroom."

Hermione had a plan for what she wanted to accomplish during the evening, and got straight down to work. As she set up her equipment, she listened with interest to the conversation Snape was having with the other students. It seemed that the two planned to work on complimentary projects - Oliver researching poisons, while Stephen worked on antidotes. After grilling them at length, he gave what appeared to be guarded approval for the projects to go ahead. Only Hermione could tell that his threat of failing them both should either of them die of poisoning was simply to hide his pleasure at their inventive concept.

With the four of them in the dungeon, they worked mostly in silence or in quiet discussion - Snape marking work, the students preparing, chopping, brewing and making notes. It was a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere which they all seemed to find productive. As the three students were clearing away their things at the end of the evening, Hermione and Snape took the opportunity to exchange a few words.

"Sir," she began, "there was a book that you said you'd lend me from your own library - the one that mentions the earliest blood-replenishing potions - I was wondering if I could borrow it tomorrow?"

"Very well, Ms. Granger," he said. "If you would like to wait after you are done here, I can get it for you this evening."

The thought of spending the rest of the evening - and perhaps the night - with Severus was a very appealing one, but she had to refuse.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, regretfully, "but I have an essay that I need to get finished this evening. Would it be okay if I picked it up tomorrow?"

Snape nodded. "Very well," he capitulated. "Return here at the end of tomorrow's classes to collect it. Do not be late. I have plans for the evening."

Hermione, Oliver and Stephen walked back up to the main school together, chatting about their projects.

"He wasn't as bad as I thought," Stephen said, thankfully. "I thought he might treat us like we were in detention or something."

Oliver laughed. "We'd just better make sure we don't melt any cauldrons, though. I bet it wouldn't take much to turn him nasty."

Hermione didn't respond to these comments, but pleasantly wished them good night and returned to the Gryffindor common room. She would have preferred to be with Severus, but at least tonight she wouldn't be making Ron and Harry any more suspicious, and she really did have homework to do.

* * *

The next afternoon, Hermione headed for the dungeon as arranged. Once sure that they were alone, they slipped through the hidden doorway at the back of the classroom and into his private rooms.

"Is this the only way to get to your rooms?" asked Hermione, curiously. In case of emergencies, students knew where many of the teachers' private rooms were. She assumed that the Slytherins would need some way to contact their head of house if need be, but she suspected the doorway he had showed her was not common knowledge.

He shook his head. "This is a private entrance known only to myself, the headmaster, and you. The other passageway is close to the Slytherin common room, and leads to the same doorway." He saw her looking anxious. "Don't worry - there is no chance of our running into anyone trying to use the other corridor. They cannot be used at the same time."

Inside the living-room, they held a long embrace. To Hermione, it was a way of setting aside thoughts of the outside world and centering herself on where she was and who she was with. She felt Severus' breathing slow, and a sigh seemed to go through his body as they held each other.

"So, you said you had plans for the evening," she said at last. "I hope they include me."

"They do, indeed," he replied. "What would you say to dinner here, then a walk around the lake?"

Hermione smiled. "That would be wonderful, but I'm not sure that wandering around the castle grounds together would be exactly discreet!"

Severus raised his eyebrows. "I happen to know a few charms that will keep us unseen. Dinner is easiest to arrange if we eat at the same time that food is served in the Great Hall. In the meantime, how about some mulled mead?"

Hermione sat by the fire as Severus brought out a bottle and two glasses. He handed a glass to her then turned to select a book from the shelves. He handed it to her. "I believe that this is the book you requested."

She took the volume and smiled. "I didn't necessarily mean now." She half laughed, but she opened the book to study the table of contents. This book looked like it could be very useful for her project, and she turned to a chapter that caught her eye, skimming the material with interest. By the time she looked up a few minutes later, Severus was sitting in the chair on the other side of the fire. He had a book of his own open, but he was studying her face with amused affection.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she said, self-consciously. "I'm hopeless when I get a book in my hands."

"Read," he insisted.

She smiled and turned back to the book. He watched her for a few minutes more, then turned his attention to his own.

It was not unusual for Hermione to sit reading a book: she would read in the library or the common room most often, but also in bed, in the school grounds, or anywhere else that she happened to be. What was unusual was for her to have someone to share her reading with. Her love of books often made her feel isolated from the people around her; it had always been such a solitary passtime. Now, sitting in front of the fire in a comfortable chair near someone who clearly loved books as much as she did, she felt that this was finally a pleasure she could share.

She finished a chapter and looked up at the man sitting opposite her. He had removed his outer robes but still wore his fastidiously buttoned frock coat. With a book in his hand and an engrossed calm on his face, even his formal clothing looked dignified rather than severe.

He looked up and smiled. "Hungry?"

Not having seen a kitchen in Severus' rooms, Hermione was interested in how he would serve dinner. It turned out to be a very simple process. He set an extra place at the dining table, waved his wand silently, and food appeared in exactly the same way that it did in the Great Hall. She supposed that the food provided was the same as everyone upstairs was eating, but it was much more enjoyable when shared with just Severus.

They talked as they ate, and it was wonderful. Their shared love of books and learning led them to all kinds of topics that fascinated Hermione. His knowledge was extensive - not just about potions, but seemingly about many other forms of magic. They discussed everything from Muggle studies to Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes to Charms. She found it fascinating to hear alternative viewpoints and be able to discuss and challenge her theories in a way that she did not usually have the opportunity. Severus liked to play the role of Devil's Advocate, challenging her assumptions about even the most basic concepts, then watching with interest as she struggled to defend her position. Hermione found it a wonderful way to learn. Even on some non-magical topics such as music he seemed to know huge amounts. Only muggle science seemed to baffle him.

"I'm serious, Severus," Hermione explained to him. "There's no magic about it!"

He regarded her dubiously. "No, Hermione," he said, "Nothing will convince me that there is no magic involved in aeroplanes. Muggles must be confunded in some way, to believe that."

She smiled. "Maybe chemistry would make more sense to you than engineering."

They finished dinner and prepared to walk. Severus brought out two heavy cloaks, including one the right size for Hermione. "The heads of houses often end up with a collection of items never claimed from lost and found," he explained. "I trust that you don't object to a cloak with Slytherin colours in the lining."

"I think I can handle that just this once."

Before leaving his room, he placed a disillusionment charm on her, and she felt the strange tingle down her spine as he did so. She followed him as he strode through the castle to the front doors and out into the evening air. A little way from the castle, he used a different charm so that they could walk unseen, hand in hand.

Despite the ease of their conversation, there was one subject that Hermione hesitated to bring up, but knew she had to.

"Severus," she said softly, "there's something we ought to think about. We should have thought about it earlier, actually."

She didn't need to go on. "Protection?" he asked her, simply. "Yes, we should have discussed that. The castle and grounds are covered, Hermione. It seems that the founders were aware of the raging hormones of teenage witches and wizards, and made it so that a pregnancy can only occur if both parties want it to."

"That's not in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione commented. "I suppose they didn't want to give the students any ideas."

"And it seems it is not only the students they needed to be concerned about," Severus added, dryly.

The October air was chilly but refreshing as they walked. The sky was clear and there was little wind to blow the few autumn leaves that had begun to fall. They had no particular direction in mind, they simply wandered where they liked, talking quietly and enjoying each other's company.

They reached a hilltop from which they could look back and see the magnificent castle of Hogwarts, and stood together admiring the view. Snape had stood there many times during his solo rambles around the school grounds, but it had never felt like this. It had felt detached and isolated, and his walk back to the castle had always been a walk towards an empty room and a solitary life. Yet he had never desired anything else: he had not considered it lonely or comfortless because he had never felt a need for companionship or warmth. It was only now that he had had a taste of intimacy with another person that he had come to value it. He drew Hermione to him in the darkness and kissed her, marvelling at how much his life was changing. Here was a beautiful, fascinating, intelligent young witch who felt that he was someone worth spending time with. She didn't simply tolerate him, or find him a useful wizard to have around, she enjoyed his company and valued his opinions.

"Stay with me tonight," he murmured.

She answered with a lasting kiss, and they became lost in the moment, enjoying the tenderness of each other's lips. A hunting owl flew close by, and two deer grazed some distance away down the hill, but they noticed nothing. After a long time, they headed back towards the castle hand in hand.

* * *

 _A/N (18-Apr-2018): I'm sorry that this has taken a while to post. The last few days have been difficult, and I've struggled with the writing. Hopefully, things will get easier, but it might be another few days before the next chapter. Please review!_


	7. Time for Adventure

**Chapter 7 - Time for Adventure**

Things had not gone well for Snape that day. He had woken alone with a headache and things had gone downhill from there. Minerva Mcgonagall had stopped him after breakfast to tell him about a jinx that a Slytherin third year had used on a fifth year Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff had ended up in the hospital wing with what looked like purple mushrooms sprouting from his neck. The Slytherin was a particularly nasty kid by the name of Malcolm Baddock. His bad attitude even extended to Snape, who had been glad to foist him off on Filch for his detention.

His second year class was particularly dense during their lesson, and Snape had spent the last half hour of it reversing the effects of a swelling potion which had exploded and splattered everyone, including him. The antidote to the swelling potion could be dangerous if mixed with headache potion, so he was unable to take another dose and his headache remained with him for most of the day.

At the end of the day's lessons, he would have liked to relax, but he wanted to get his marking done before Hermione arrived after dinner.

After skipping dinner in the great hall in favour of his favourite soup in his own room, he relaxed into his armchair by the fire. The first book his hand found when he reached out to the small table was one that Hermione had been reading. He smiled. The book was about the complex interactions between potions and ingredients, and required a detailed understanding of many advanced concepts in potion making. She truly had an incredible mind. He knew that he was not alone among the staff in considering her to be the most gifted student at Hogwarts for many years.

He touched the pages of the book, remembering how she looked when she was reading - so absorbed and focused, with her legs curled up under her and occasional strands of hair falling across her face. He felt a glow in his chest as he thought of her, knowing that she would be arriving soon, looking forward to taking her in his arms and kissing her. Seeing the beautiful smile that was just for him.

He was in love with her.

How could he be in love when they knew each other so little? A month ago he would have described her as talented but irritating. It was little more than a week since they had first kissed. Four days since she had first come to his private rooms and he had taken her to his bed. His body reacted to the memory. He could see her naked body in his mind; warm, smooth, inviting. He could hear her soft moans as he slid his tongue into her wetness.

Oh, Merlin. His trousers were tight. Just the thought of her had made him hard.

Control yourself, Snape, he chided himself. You're not a teenager.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and he strode to open it. Hermione stepped inside, dropping her bag and smiling her half-shy smile. He kissed her and held her tight. "I was having a terrible day until I started thinking about you," he said, softly.

Hermione pulled him close, and he knew that she could feel his erection as their bodies pressed together. She moved her hips against it, teasingly.

"I think maybe that's something we should go and deal with," she whispered.

He couldn't agree more. Still kissing, they began to move towards the bedroom. Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at his throat. He was surprised but intrigued. Slowly, she began to move the tip downwards, and the buttons of his frock coat popped open one by one. She pushed it off his shoulders and he let it drop to the floor. His black cravat fell beside it, followed by her t-shirt.

Her hand reached for the top of his trousers, rubbing against him through the tight fabric. She used her fingers for these buttons, managing to continue rubbing him as she unfastened them.

Hermione started to push his trousers downward and slipped a small hand into his boxers to grasp him. He felt a shiver of pleasure run through his body. She reached up to pull him into a kiss, then gently pushed him backwards towards the bed.

"Lie down," she instructed, and he complied willingly, kicking off his shoes and trousers as he did so. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply as she straddled him, her hands on his chest and her hips moving against his crotch. He felt his shirt buttons being undone and her tongue flicking deliciously at his nipples.

Her hand grasped him again, freeing him from his boxers and stroking him firmly. Slowly, she began to move downwards, kissing his chest, his stomach, his abdomen.

Oh, Merlin, he wanted her to do this!

Her tongue slid onto the tip and traced a circle around the head. He moaned with pleasure at the feeling. Her hands were around the base as she took him into her mouth, firmly stroking him up and down.

He looked down. Her head was bobbing over him, and her eyes were on his, watching his reactions as she sucked on him. The sight of his penis in her mouth and her eyes locked on his was almost more than he could bear, and he had difficulty not cumming right away. He wanted to wait - to make this experience last.

One of her hands slipped downwards to cup his balls, gently stroking and squeezing as she sucked harder. It felt so wonderful! He found himself gasping her name as she bobbed faster and faster, taking him deeper into her mouth.

He could hold himself back no longer, and his body shook as he reached his climax. Hermione's mouth and hands were still on him, drawing out every last drop as he quivered and relaxed.

She moved up his body, resting her head on his chest and leaving one hand still lightly resting on his crotch. He could feel that his cum was all over him, where she had let it dribble from her mouth. Messy but wonderful.

Women had done that for him before, but it had never felt so good. It had never felt like it had been done purely for him, not for some ulterior motive or obligatory reciprocation. It had never been done by someone he loved.

He let out a low rumble of pleasure and drew her up to kiss her, then slowly rolled her onto her back. She had tasted him and made him feel wonderful, and he knew he would get as much pleasure from doing the same to her.

* * *

Hermione stretched her body luxuriantly as she stepped from the shower. Severus stepped out behind her and wrapped a lush towel around her then grabbed one for himself.

"I hope you don't mind, Severus," she said, "but I brought a couple of changes of clothes to keep here."

"I don't mind at all," he said softly. "I already noticed a few items finding their way into my bathroom that don't belong to me."

Hermione smiled sheepishly and went to get her bag. She opened his closet and found very little other than several identical white shirts and black trousers. Hanging up a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans broadened the colour pallette dramatically. To these, she added a clean school uniform.

Severus sighed. "To be honest, Hermione," he said, sounding a little awkward, "I had hoped to avoid you wearing your school uniform in here."

"Why?" she asked, surprised.

He was dry and beginning to pull on his clothes.

He looked embarrassed. "I … try to avoid thinking of you as a student when we're in here."

"You've never had fantasies about girls in school uniforms?" she teased.

He cringed. "No. Even when I realized I had feelings for you, you weren't usually wearing your uniform when you were working on your project. I don't ... it's not how I want to think of you."

Hermione had never seen him so awkward and uncertain of himself. She took his hand and led him to the bed, pulling him down to sit facing her. "Severus," she said gently, "The reality is that I'm a student. You see me around the school and even in your classes. However much you try to separate what goes on in here from the outside world, it's just not possible. I almost didn't make it back to my room the other morning before other people were up, and it would have been much easier if I'd been in my uniform and could have gone straight to breakfast. It's okay to see me here in my uniform, sometimes." She gave him a mischievous smile. "It's even okay if it turns you on, occasionally." She kissed him, then added, "As long as you don't start lusting after all your female students!"

He pulled her to him and pulled them both down to the bed. "Never," he murmured, kissing her.

Hermione kissed him back for a few long minutes, then pushed him away. "I thought we were going to go for a walk," she laughed. "Now let me get dressed!"

* * *

At breakfast the next day, Ron and Harry had some interesting news for Hermione. It seemed that, after more than five years of hearing Hermione referring to it, quoting from it, and generally waving it under their noses, they had finally decided to read 'Hogwarts, a History', and had found it very interesting.

It had started with something that Ron had read about while working on his charms project. He had been learning about concealing and revealing charms, which had lead him to thinking about the Marauder's Map. It had been so useful for many years, but he and Harry knew that there were some areas of the school that it didn't show. The Room of Requirement, for instance, was not shown, and anyone entering it would simply disappear from the map. The passage leading from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to the Chamber of Secrets was also missing. In a fit of intellectual curiosity that Hermione had never seen in him before, Ron had decided he wanted to find out why.

Looking for hints about this, they turned to the volume about the school.

"We found some stuff about tunnels we couldn't find on the Marauders' Map, so we started doing more digging," said Ron. "There are all kinds of books in the library that aren't really about Hogwarts, but mention it. Look at this."

He handed her an old and fading book, with a scrap of paper marking the page. She read the title - "Legends of the Waters, by T. M. Hydra" - then opened it and read with interest the passage he had marked.

 _[ ... however, not all of the stories of the merpeople have such strong supporting evidence such as this. For instance, one story, found in the ancient and thought-to-be-lost Kingsbury scrolls, refers to a series of caverns and tunnels below the water level of a particularly large lake, where merfolk and 'airfolk' could meet and communicate comfortably in the caverns' breathable air. It is said that this cooperation between land and water was instrumental in the recovery of the Spear of Ath, when it was stolen from Mer-chieftainess Murancra in 1622 ... ]_

"It doesn't mention where this was, though," said Hermione, cautiously. "What makes you think it's anything to do with the Hogwarts lake?"

Hermione was impressed with the amount of research that her friends had been doing into this. They had a long trail of books, scrolls and cross- references, all leading them to believe that somewhere in the Hogwarts castle, there were tunnels leading to underwater caverns in the lake. And they were determined to find them.

"We think they have to start from somewhere in the dungeons," said Harry. "You remember Nick's Deathday party? That part of the dungeon isn't used much, except for the ghosts, and it's a lot deeper than the rest - we think it has to be somewhere down there."

The two boys had been exploring the depths of the dungeons several times in the past week. Hermione couldn't help feeling a little hurt that this was the first she had heard of it, but then, she'd been spending so much time with Severus that she had hardly given them much of a chance to tell her. She'd been away so much that she had only once been to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice under Harry's captainship. Her friends meant so much to her, and she had been practically ignoring them - not to mention lying to them. Severus was right - they really had to decide what to do about either telling them something or avoiding so much sneaking around so she didn't have to deceive them so often.

As they talked, she found herself growing as excited about the prospect of finding the caverns as they were. However long she spent at Hogwarts, she knew that she could never know even half of its secrets, but it would be fascinating to try to unravel more of them in their final years there. Ron's motives were, naturally, a little different. Living in the shadows of his older brothers, he was excited about the prospect of finding tunnels that had never been found by Fred and George, and couldn't wait to get one up on them for a change!

Well, she might be wanting to spend all her time with Severus, but she also didn't want to lose her friends. Somehow, she would find time to help them with this and join in the adventure!

* * *

 _A/N (22-Apr-2018): This chapter took longer than usual because I had to do some planning for future events. The good news is that the next chapter is well under way! Reviews are always welcome._

 _A/N (25-Apr-2018): I had to make a minor alteration in this, because I found an error. I thought that Hermione had been wearing her school uniform when they first had sex, but reading back I just realized that she wasn't. Oops._


	8. Secrets and Memories

**Chapter 8 - Secrets and Memories**

Hermione and Snape had spent another evening in the potions classroom with Oliver Rivers and Stephen Cornfoot, and had, again, found it productive and enjoyable. The two Hufflepuffs were not the only students beginning to work on their projects. All sixth-years had to choose two subjects to do projects in, and these would contribute a large percentage towards their N.E.W.T. results the following year. Hermione was unique in choosing to combine subjects for a single mark, as her interests in the two areas overlapped so neatly.

Ron and Harry's choice of Care of Magical Creatures was a popular one, and students could choose to carry out either practical or theoretical studies. The list of creatures available for practical care did not, understandably, include dragons, so Ron was forced to study them from a distance. Hermione and Harry were not quite certain whether Ron or Hagrid was the most disappointed that the headmaster turned down their request to 'borrow' an egg from Charlie Weasley to raise in the Forbidden Forest. Harry's choice of animal to study was less adventurous, but had the double benefits of not being illegal and the fact that he happened to own one ("You don't mind being my sixth-year project, do you Hedwig?"). Although he had had the beautiful snowy owl since his eleventh birthday, Harry realized that there was much he still had to learn about her, and he found the project very enjoyable. In addition to these, Ron had chosen his other project in Charms and Harry in Transfiguration.

"So have you actually got both your projects started?" Hermione asked them, on the way to the Gryffindor common room.

"Yes, Hermione," said Ron. "We're not all like you, getting started in the first week of term, but we're not completely hopeless."

"I don't think our projects are going to be as complicated as yours, though," added Harry. "You're spending so much time working on yours."

"Anyway," said Ron, "our other project is way more interesting."

They had spent a good part of the weekend trying to find out more information about the tunnels leading to the lake. Ron and Harry would have preferred to just head down to the deepest part of the dungeons and keep exploring, but Hermione insisted that it would be useless without having more information to guide them.

"I think you just don't want to spend any more time in the dungeon, " Ron commented.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "You're always heading off to the dungeon to work on your project."

"Unless Hagrid's right," said Ron, quietly.

Hermione stopped. "Right about what?"

Ron looked embarrassed. "Well … Hagrid thinks you've got a boyfriend."

She supposed it was time to tell them something. She and Severus had been staying apart for a few night, trying to allay suspicion, but it had obviously not helped much. Maybe telling them part of the truth would be a way to avoid having to lie so much to them.

They had reached the common room and Hermione sighed, pointing to three armchairs in a corner. "Okay," she said, as they sat down. "Hagrid's right. I am seeing someone, but I'm not ready to tell you who it is."

"So who is it?"

"Ron, I just said I wasn't going to tell you."

"It can't be anyone in Gryffindor," said Harry. "We'd have seen you."

Ron looked like he'd had an idea. "I know. It's one of those Hufflepuffs that are in Potions with us. Which one is it - Oliver or Stephen?"

Hermione sighed. She had a feeling that they wouldn't let up about this. "No, it's not either of them."

"Is it a Hufflepuff, though?" Ron continued. "It's not a Slytherin, is it? They're evil."

No, it's not a Slytherin, she thought. Just the head of house.

"Come on, Hermione," argued Harry. "You might as well just tell us."

"No!" she said firmly. "Now, are we going to do any work or not?"

* * *

Snape was amused by Hermione's report of the conversation she had had with her friends.

"Boyfriend?" he mused. "That does not exactly sound like the appropriate term, but I'm really not sure what would."

"I'd hoped telling them that might stop them being so suspicious, but I think now they'll just spend all their time trying to figure out who it is."

"At least we can be sure they'll never guess correctly," he answered. "They'd guess you were seeing the giant squid before they thought of me. But they are right to warn you against the Slytherins. They are a bad lot."

They were sitting together in Snape's armchair, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"So I've heard," she said. "I even heard that the Head of Slytherin made a first year girl cry in a potions lesson, today."

"I suspect that she might be another Longbottom. She burned a hole in one of the benches. And I have no intention of changing my teaching style," he added in a low growl, as though he suspected her comment of being a request to change.

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to change the way you teach. Your style is legendary, and Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without it."

"Thank you," he said in a low voice, pretending to take this comment as a compliment.

"Young witches and wizards hear the stories from their older brothers and sisters," she continued, teasing, "and live in dread of the day that they have to face their first potions lesson with the infamous Professor Snape!"

His growl had a hint of amusement in it - just a hint. "I think you've made your point, Ms. Granger."

She turned in the chair and kissed him. Looking up into his face, her expression became serious. "Severus," she whispered. "You do know that I'm in love with you, don't you?"

As soon as the words were out of Hermione's mouth, she regretted them. She had wanted to say it so much, and hadn't been able to stop herself, but her insecurities immediately took hold of her. He was so much older than her. He had experiences of life beyond anything she knew. How could he possibly reciprocate what he probably saw as a childish crush.

His face confirmed the fact that it had been a mistake to speak the words aloud. He looked stunned, and couldn't seem to find his voice. She found herself talking quickly, to cover the awkwardness as she plunged ahead.

"I know that there's a big age gap between us," she gushed, "and that this isn't as serious for you as it is for me, but I can't help the way I feel."

"Hermione - - - " he began, but she continued, desperate to put off for a moment longer the pain that she knew was coming. Why had she said it?

"Severus, you're a very physical and passionate man. If this relationship is about that, and you don't have real feelings for me, then I understand. I should never have said what I did."

He spoke her name again. It was soft, but with an underlying firmness that had to be listened to. "Hermione," he murmured, "you can have no possible idea how much I love you." Hermione's breath caught in her chest. "This relationship means more to me ... You mean more to me … than anything else in the world."

It was Hermione's turn to be stunned.

She stared, unbelieving, into his face, trying to sort out the emotions inside her, then slowly drew his head down to hers. They kissed deeply, both feeling that a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. For each of them, the joy of being loved matched the thrill of loving, and their hearts burned for each other.

Eventually, they parted, still held in each other's eyes.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Hermione, softly.

Severus smiled. "Well, I have a few ideas," he said, wryly, "but I wouldn't want you to think this relationship is only physical."

Laughing, Hermione kissed him again. "That's not what I meant, Severus!" she scolded, mockingly. "I meant that if we feel this way about each other, and want to be together, what do we do about... "

Severus picked up the sentence "Potter, Weasley… Dumbledore ?"

"... the rest of the school?"

There were so many obstacles to their relationship. Just being able to spend time together involved deception and subterfuge.

His face was somber. "The longer we spend sneaking around, the more likely we are to be caught," he mused. "We definitely need to think about how to deal with this." His fingers were stroking her face as he spoke, and slowly began moving downwards. His black eyes acquired a mischievous glint as he stroked her breast through her sweater. "In the meantime," he continued, "I think my other suggestion has some merits ... "

Hermione smiled.

* * *

" _And what think you, Severus?" the high voice asked, in amusement. "Do you agree with Lucius that muggles are too filthy even to be touched?"_

 _Snape's attitude remained indifferent as he continued to watch the girl's struggles._

" _No, My Lord," he said. "They are certainly unworthy of our concern, but that doesn't mean we can't use them for our … amusement when we desire. But I admit that my tastes are not so crude as those of Mr. Yaxley."_

 _Voldemort gave a soft laugh. "Few people's are," he agreed._

 _The girl was bound and gagged on the floor, trying to press herself further into the corner, away from the figure of Corban Yaxley standing over her. She was probably about sixteen - not much younger than Snape himself - but the fear on her tear-stained face made her look much younger._

" _Perhaps you would like to stay and watch?" Voldemort mused, watching Snape's face for a reaction._

" _I have no desire to watch Yaxley have his sport," he answered, "but I am sure I will hear it from anywhere in the manor. I know how he likes to make them scream."_

 _Yaxley bent down to grab the girl by her bound wrists. He dragged her to the middle of the room, throwing her roughly down._

" _You know your problem, Snape?" Yaxley asked with a sneer. "You have no sense of fun."_

 _He pulled out a dagger and showed it to the sobbing, terrified girl, then bent to draw the point slowly down the side of her face and neck._

" _Come, Severus," Voldemort said. "Let us leave Corban to his little game." Snape turned and followed him from the room._

" _I'll make sure she's nice and loud for you," Yaxley promised as they left, closing the door behind them._

* * *

Snape thrashed himself awake, gasping for breath, his sheets soaked with sweat. He knew that he had been yelling aloud - it was as though he could still hear it echoing around the room, and still feel it in his throat. He screwed up his eyes, trying to blot out the girl's appearance. It was not the tear-streaked face of terror that was stuck in his mind - it was how she looked after Yaxley had finished with her: the face unrecognizable and the body bruised, bloody and broken, lifeless and twisted on the floor. Discarded.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and leaned over the side of the bed, retching. This was how it always was. But no, not quite. There were hands on his bare back and a panicked voice calling his name.

"Severus. Severus! What is it?"

A lamp flickered into life, lighting the room with a dim glow. He pulled away from the hands, forcing himself to his feet. With the instinct of routine, he reached for a blue bottle on the table at the side of his bed. His hands were shaking and he had problems removing the stopper, but when he finally did, he took a long swig and fell to his knees.

There he sat, crumpled, with tears rolling down his cheeks, feeling the calming draught take effect as it always did. Hermione was kneeling next to him now, and he felt her warm arms surrounding him. "Severus, it's okay," she whispered, stroking his back and kissing his forehead.

The ragged breaths that were wracking his body began to ease, and he looked up into Hermione's face: such a young face, tear-stained and afraid - so much like the other girl. He turned away.

"There's another bottle on the shelf," he said, eventually. "The small purple bottle marked 'Dreamless Sleep'. I think I need that one as well, tonight."

He allowed himself to be coaxed back into the bed. Hermione held the bottle, but before giving it to him, she looked into his face. "Severus," she asked, "do you want me to fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

He shook his head. "No, Hermione. This will let me rest, and we'll talk tomorrow."

She watched him take the potion, then kissed his forehead. Almost instantly, he was asleep.

Hermione slid into the bed next to him and snuggled close against his back. Sleep took much longer coming to her.

* * *

Snape removed his outer robes and his frock coat as soon as they reached his living room, and he sat heavily in his armchair. He was tired, but otherwise he felt no worse for wear after his disturbed night. Usually, once the episode had passed, he would push the thoughts to one side and get on with his life. This time would have to be different, though.

There was worry on Hermione's face. He wanted so much to ease her mind, but he knew that the conversation they had to have would make it much worse.

"I should have warned you about my nightmares," he began. "It must have scared you."

When he had woken that morning it had been late, and he had had no time to explain anything before hurrying to get ready for classes. Hermione had tried to persuade him to tell the headmaster that he was sick, but he had insisted on teaching. He had assured her he was fine, and had promised her a full explanation that evening. Now she was sitting on the arm of his chair, watching him closely.

"Scared me?" she echoed. "I was terrified."

"I'm sorry. I sometimes go for months without that happening, and sometimes it's several times in a week."

"It seemed like more than just a nightmare," she insisted.

He sighed. "Yes. It was a memory - and I have some very bad memories."

"Tell me," she said.

Snape felt a wave of cold pass through his body.

How could he do that? She was young and knew nothing of the true evil that was in the world. The evil that was in his past. He didn't want to pretend that none of it had happened, and she had a right to know what kind of man he had been, but how could he bring himself to tell her? How could she hear of the things he had done and not turn away from him in horror and disgust?

"Tell me," she repeated softly.

"Hermione, I have never experienced anything like our relationship before," he said, struggling to find the right words. "I have never experienced what it feels like to have someone want to spend time with me and enjoy my company and love me. I am terrified that when you know the truth about my past all of that will be gone. I don't think I could bear to see you hate me."

There was a tear rolling down her cheek, but her face was resolute. "I think I have to know," she whispered. Her face was pale and he longed to take the pain away, but he had to steel himself to cause her more.

"There was a girl - a teenager. She had been brought to Lucius' manor - just because she was a muggle. The Dark Lord gave her to Yaxley as a reward for killing an auror. I was with them when he gave her to him and I walked away. She screamed and cried for hours before he killed her. He beat her. Raped her. Tortured her. I knew what he would do to her and I walked away."

He pushed on.

"When I have these nightmares I'm back there - I'm feeling what I felt before and making the same decisions I made before. That was just one of the memories I re-live. Many of them are worse. I didn't always just turn my back; I participated. Not like Yaxley - he found such a thrill in depravity - but I did things that were almost as bad, and I enjoyed doing them. They were muggles; their pain and their fear didn't matter because they were animals. If the Dark Lord told me to do something I did it readily, without hesitation and without regret.

"Sometimes my memories are of the things I did after I changed my allegiances; things where I had no choice in order to maintain my cover. After I became Dumbledore's spy, I cultivated a reputation for enjoying the kill. It meant that I could end the pain for some of them. I could kill them quickly instead of allowing them to be tortured to death. I wasn't always able to, though. Sometimes I had to walk away or watch. Sometimes I had to participate. There were times when I would beg Dumbledore to let me fight openly against the Death Eaters, but he refused. He said I was too valuable as a spy.

"But most of my nightmares are memories of the things I did without remorse. The one last night was not the worst by any means. Before I changed my loyalties I was a true Death Eater and I felt and acted as one of them of my own free will."

While he had been talking, Hermione had stood and turned away from him. He had forced himself to keep talking, knowing that it all needed to be told and that if he stopped he might never have the courage to continue. His voice had been emotionless as he spoke, and his eyes had stared, unseeing, into the cold hearth. He felt that he had said what he had to say and now sat silent and still. Numb.

For a long time, neither of them moved. Hermione's back was still towards him, and her hands were resting on the back of one of the chairs as though to steady her.

"Severus," she said eventually, her voice unnaturally calm, "I think I need to be alone for a while. I …" She turned to the door and left.


	9. Remorse

**Chapter 9 - Remorse**

Hermione was freezing. The October morning air was frosty and there was a cold wind that had begun in the early hours and had still not let up now that the sun was rising. She pulled her cloak around her more tightly, but it did nothing to lessen the cold. Stiffly, she stood. Her feet hurt from the cold, and she wriggled her toes trying to get the blood flowing. She had walked for most of the night, finally ending up by the lake, where she had sat, staring across the water.

As she walked towards the castle, the stiffness in her limbs eased a little. The night of walking, crying and thinking had helped her sort out her feelings, but her body and mind were exhausted. She didn't even have the strength to recast a disillusionment charm over herself, even if her frozen fingers could hold her wand.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon as she rounded the corner of the greenhouses and almost walked straight into Hagrid.

"Good morning', 'Ermione," he smiled, cheerfully. "Yer up early this mornin'." He stopped as he took in her appearance. "Wha' in Merlin's name have yer been doin'?" he demanded. "Yer look frozen half to death!"

"I'm okay, Hagrid," she shivered. "I just need to get warm."

"Come on," said Hagrid. "We need to get yer to the 'ospital wing."

"No," she insisted. "Please Hagrid. I don't need the hospital wing."

"My cabin, then," he decided. "We'll get yer warm."

She nodded in acquiescence, and turned to walk with him. She was glad that it wasn't far.

Inside the cabin, Hagrid created a warm fire, and quickly made her a huge mug of tea. She settled herself into a chair that would have fit three of her, and Hagrid wrapped a blanket around her.

"'Ow long 'ave you been outside?" he finally demanded, once he had seen her take a sip of the tea. "Yer've not been out all night, 'ave yer?"

Her face seemed to show him the answer.

"Merlin's beard!"

She was thankful that he said nothing else for a while, letting her drink her tea and feel the warmth seeping back into her body. Her fingers and toes were the worst, and remained painful even after the rest of her had begun to feel almost recovered.

"'Ermione," Hagrid said, eventually, "wha's goin' on? It's not like yer to do summat like this."

She sighed. "I had some thinking to do," she told him. "I wanted to walk and get my head clear."

He looked skeptical. "Yer coulda done that without half killin' yerself. Wha' did yer need to think about, anyway? Wha's botherin' yer?"

"I can't tell you, Hagrid. I'm sorry. But I think I'm okay now."

"Is it summat to do with yer mysterious new boyfriend?"

It did not surprise Hermione that Hagrid knew about this. She nodded.

"Well, 'e can't be much good fer yer if yer end up like this. Wha' did 'e do?"

"It's nothing, Hagrid," she insisted. "It's not anything that he did. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I just needed to think."

It took a while before Hagrid seemed to believe that her new boyfriend had not somehow mistreated her. After another cup of tea along with some bacon, eggs and toast that he cooked for both of them, she felt warm and comfortable again. Hagrid was not willing to simply let her go back to the school and go to classes, though.

"Yer need to sleep," he insisted. "I'll let yer go up to the castle and not mention anythin' ter Madam Pomfrey as long as yer promise yer'll go straight to bed. I'll talk to yer teachers and tell 'em yer need to miss classes this mornin'."

"But …"

"It's either tha', or I go straight to Madam Pomfrey. I'm sure yer'll catch up with anythin' yer miss."

* * *

Snape sat alone in the potions classroom, planning his lessons for the following week. He had no idea whether Hermione would come to him that evening, or ever again, and working was an attempt to avoid thinking about it. He had always found that presenting an external image of emotional control helped him to maintain that control inside, and he found himself able to concentrate on his work quite effectively. He had no intention of heading to his private rooms where it would be so much more difficult to maintain his public persona.

"Severus."

He had not heard the classroom door open, and the soft voice was unexpected. He stood, forgetting his work immediately.

"Hermione."

She walked up to him and reached up to give him a soft kiss.

"Let's go and talk."

She took his hand gently in hers and led him to his private quarters. They sat opposite each other in the two armchairs, both silent for a long moment, but it seemed to be understood between them that Hermione was to be the one to speak.

"It's been common knowledge for a long time that you used to be a death eater and that you changed allegiances before Voldemort first tried to kill Harry."

Snape said nothing, giving away no trace of his emotions on his face. Her face was pained, but her words were calm.

"I knew the kinds of things the death eaters did and how they treated muggles and muggle-borns. I knew that you had been part of that, but I never had to think about it until yesterday. What you told me was a shock, but only because I'd never had to confront it before.

"I spent last night walking around the grounds, thinking about the things you did. I don't think I was ever in any doubt about how I felt, but I needed to make sure I had really thought about it and that I wasn't just burying my head in the sand. I think I do understand about the evil in your past, as much as anyone can who wasn't part of it.

"There is one thing I need to know, though. I need you to tell me why you changed."

Snape was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Hermione waited.

"It started with the punishment of one of the Dark Lord's other followers. Wilkes. He had been three years below me at Hogwarts, and he was given a task by the Dark Lord when he came of age. He failed. The Dark Lord gave me the responsibility of punishing him. I did so, with enthusiasm. I used the cruciatus curse long enough that I almost killed him. I think I must have damaged his mind, because he was never the same afterwards. But when I had finished, I realized how much pleasure I got from torturing him.

"Until that moment, I had believed my motives to be driven by my belief that wizards were superior to muggles. I had felt that I was doing what I did with good reason, because they were inferior and because they were like animals. I suddenly realized that I had been fooling myself. I tortured and killed for my own pleasure, and it didn't matter whether they were muggle or pureblood. My rational mind was shocked to find that instead of fulfilling some noble purpose of suppressing those not worthy, I had simply been acting for my own gratification.

"When the Dark Lord brought in two muggles for 'sport', I tried to tell myself that I was only joining in because they deserved to be treated as animals, but I knew the truth. I had within me a lust for causing pain and fear in others, and it mattered not who or what they were. That was not a noble calling - it was brutish and predatory and there was nothing rational about it.

"That was why I changed, Hermione. I prided myself on my intelligence and reason, but I was simply a savage. It wasn't who I thought I was. I went to Dumbledore, expecting him to kill me. Or perhaps hoping for it. But instead he sent me back. That was my punishment for what I had done - to be forced to continue doing it, and to continue acting as I had done before. I had to feel every hurt I inflicted yet keep all sense of it out of my thoughts. I had to live with myself."

"What about your feelings about muggles and muggle-borns?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I still believed muggles to be less than wizards, but I realized I had no reason or right to abuse them for it. I have never met a muggle except through the death eaters. My only experience with muggle-borns has been at Hogwarts, and I quickly realized that their parentage had no bearing on their intellect or magical abilities. How could I possibly think otherwise in present company?"

His eyes had remained fixed on Hermione's the whole time he had been speaking, watching for her reactions. Her face was troubled, as he would have expected, but he could tell nothing else about how she was feeling. He remembered his words from the night before. _I don't think I could bear to see you hate me_.

He was silent.

Hermione stood and approached him. She sat on the arm of his chair, facing him, and put a hand up to his cheek. He found himself looking up into eyes that were swimming with tears.

"I told you that I loved you, Severus. I meant that I love who you are now. I never met the man you used to be, but I know he affects who you are today. You made a choice about who you wanted to be, and that's who I love."

Her hand gently wiped away the tear that he felt rolling down his cheek, then she leaned in to kiss him. She drew his head to her chest and wrapped her arms around him, making him feel warm and loved and protected. It was a strange sensation that he could not remember having felt for many many years, but it felt so right. He wanted to stay in those arms forever, not needing to be strong any longer, allowing himself to rest.

He had never particularly cared how other people viewed him, although he knew that until his role in the Dark Lord's death last year, the mistrust of him had been almost universal. The only person whose opinion had mattered had been Dumbledore. Until now. He had never realized how much it would mean to have some accept him and trust him in the way that Hermione did.

Her love meant everything.

* * *

Zecky the house elf arrived late in the evening, as he had been instructed by the Potions Master. He was the only elf permitted to serve him and he rarely saw him face-to-face. His duties were limited almost exclusively to laundry and meals, and even those required little work. Professor Snape was not the kind of man to leave dirty clothes on the floor, and it was only when he chose not to eat at the regular times that he needed food to be brought to him.

There had been a woman in the room, and it had taken Zecky a little while to realise that it was a student - Miss Granger. Professor Snape had requested food for both of them, and asked him to come back to clear up later, after they were both asleep. Miss Granger had tried to say that she wasn't hungry, but the Professor had insisted she eat something before she slept.

Zecky's loyalty was to the Headmaster, but Professor Dumbledore had always made it clear to the elves that they were not there to report back to him on what happened around the school. Discretion was part of the house elves' code. Neither would he make any judgements. He was there to serve. He couldn't help but be curious, though.

Miss Granger was polite and kind, though she looked uncomfortable at the sight of the elf. He knew that she had some strange ideas about elves - or perhaps she was embarrassed at being seen there. He had wanted to reassure her, but that wouldn't be appropriate. She needn't have worried; if Zecky had allowed himself to form an opinion, it would not have been unfavourable. Professor Snape treated Zecky with respect, and the elf was always a little sad to see him living such a solitary life.

He cleared away the dishes, then permitted himself a glimpse through the open doorway into the bedroom. A lamp had been left burning low and the elf could see two forms holding each other close, breathing softly and peacefully.

Silently, he put out the lamp and returned to the kitchen.

* * *

In contrast to the class where everything had gone so badly wrong, Potions lessons had now become quite fun for Hermione, although no-one would have believed it if she'd said so. Snape appeared to have reverted to his former loyalties and was once again showering the Slytherins with praise and deducting House Points from Gryffindor at every opportunity.

He began Monday's lesson with a lecture about the sixth-year projects - amusing Malfoy no end when he informed Hermione, "Do not assume, Ms. Granger, that Professor Binns' leniency in marking will, in any way, influence the grade I assign."

He set them a difficult task during the lesson, and watched them carefully. Hermione knew that it could have dangerous properties if not handled correctly, and found it reassuring that he trusted everyone in the class enough to assign it. Not that he showed complete faith in all of them, though.

"Hopkins," he warned, "I should caution you that there is a potion I must brew in the next few days, which I particularly despise making, and is too messy to assign to an entire class. Any foul-ups in today's lesson, and you will be 'volunteering' to do the work for me."

Later during the lesson, her mind had wandered and he had caught her gazing at him. With no outward appearance of a change in his demeanor, he brought her attention back to the class. "Ms. Granger!" he snarled. "This is a Potions lesson, and I believe you have work to do." Her mind had been back in his private rooms, thinking about the gentleness of his hands on her naked body only a few hours ago.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape."

He continued, with a sneer, "If you wish to daydream of your star-crossed lover, kindly do it in your own time!"

The Slytherins laughed. Her friends were infuriated. Hermione was relieved to find that, despite their seeming agreement that she had been spending too much time with her boyfriend, Harry and Ron were still willing to come to her defense and support against Snape - ironically, the one person from whom she needed no defense. She gave the teacher a defiant glare, glad that the flush on her face would be mistaken for embarrassment or anger.

"Cornfoot, Rivers," he said, as the class were packing up at the end of the lesson, "will you be working on your project this evening?"

"Yes, Professor," replied Stephen, "but we have some research to do in the library before we can work on our next step. "Would Wednesday be okay for working down here?"

"Very well," Snape agreed. "Ms. Granger, it has now been almost a week since you have worked on the practical aspects of your potions and history project. I suggest that you get some work done on it before you fall behind."

"Yes, Professor," she nodded. "I'll be here to work on it this evening."

"See that you are!"


	10. Nighttime in the Dungeon

**Chapter 10 - Nighttime in the Dungeon**

It was evening and Hermione had been working on her project since just after dinner.

Snape had worked at his desk for the evening, writing out an order for supplies he needed from the apothecary in Hogsmeade and planning a test for his second years. He had finished, but remained at his desk, reading, so as not to disturb Hermione. It was getting late, though, and he was thinking it was about time that she started to pack up.

He smiled to himself as he watched her work. Her hair fell across her face as she pored over her neatly written notes and she brushed it aside absently, oblivious to how endearing the action appeared to the teacher. Carefully, she measured out six drops of newt's blood and added them to the steaming cauldron in front of her. The result was not what she had predicted, judging by her face, but she appeared unconcerned and amended the notes on her scroll.

You have the objectivity of a true potion-brewer, he thought, watching her. And you're incredibly beautiful.

She was too engrossed in her work to notice when he quietly stood and approached her, pointing his wand at the classroom door to lock it as he did so. It was only when he was almost beside her that she looked up with those wide eyes and smiled at him. How could a smile make his heart miss a beat like that? How could she affect him so much?

"See what I've found?" she asked, indicating her notes. "In each of the last four tests, the combination of Myth and newt's blood has had the effect of raising the boiling point of the potion, which explains why the potency has been increased." She picked up the newt's blood again, and raised it over the cauldron. "I'll try six more drops to see the effect."

"Let me help you," he offered. Stepping up behind her, he reached around and placed a hand over her own on the bottle. They poured the six drops carefully, and then stirred the mix, her hand guiding his as they did so. In front of them, the mixture turned a deeper shade of red in response to the added ingredient. Snape moved to her scroll on the desk, picked up her quill and added to her notes in his own hand, then moved silently back to his position behind her. He reached out once again to 'help' her stir the cauldron.

The change in Hermione's position was so slight that Snape only gradually became aware of her pushing backwards so that their bodies touched. He reached up with his free hand to touch her hair, allowing it to slip through his fingers in a beautiful cascade, back to her shoulders.

"Did you want to help me or distract me?" Hermione asked softly.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a slight smile. "I want to distract you," he murmured, truthfully.

Hermione continued stirring, as his hand left hers and slid up her arm to her shoulder. "Then you're doing an excellent job."

He reached up again to her hair and, gathering it in his hand, pushed it to one side to expose pale smooth skin. He thought he detected the slightest of sighs as his fingers gently stroked the back of her neck. He bent to kiss the same place, but stopped himself. Without allowing his lips to touch her, he gently blew a soft breath of air over the skin, this time eliciting a deeper sigh as she stopped stirring the cauldron. Her head fell slowly forward, exposing her neck to him, and he responded by allowing his lips to touch her ever so gently.

His voice was hoarse and deep as he murmured, "You have a beautiful neck, Hermione." Her skin was warm under his touch, and her sighs seemed to reach all the way to his heart. He placed tiny kisses on her skin, feeling his passion growt. He spoke slowly, savouring every word. "I want to start at your neck and explore every inch of your body with my eyes and my fingers and my lips. I want to tease you and torment you with my tongue, and make love to you so slowly that you're begging me to take you. I want to make you scream out my name and tell me you love me. I want … "

She had turned and pulled his head towards her, stifling his words with her kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, silently telling her of his desires.

Snape's attention turned, just for a moment, to the still-simmering cauldron, and he muttered a single word. Immediately the potion cooled and darkened. Then he turned back and lifted Hermione lightly into his arms.

* * *

"It's after Midnight, Harry," Ron's voice was becoming agitated. "We should do something."

Harry had to admit that he was worried too. "There's nothing we can do, though, Ron," he replied, uncomfortably. "She's told us that she's seeing someone. She can make her own decisions about who she sees and how late she should stay out."

Ron was not convinced. "But, we've no idea who it is or anything. Besides - all this stuff with her project is giving me the creeps. She says she's working on her project almost every evening and doesn't get back 'till late, but Snape said she hadn't worked on it for about a week. I've somehow got a feeling there's more to this than her meeting a boy. She's hardly even been to the library for two weeks. It's just not like her."

"We checked the Marauder's Map, though," Harry pointed out. "We couldn't find her on there."

"But we already know the map doesn't show everything."

"So what do you want to do?" asked Harry. It was clear that Ron would not give up easily on this, so maybe it would be best to see what he suggested.

Ron thought for a moment, then answered, decidedly, "I want to go and check out the Potions classroom where she's been working. Just to see if there's anything - well - odd."

"Do you really think that will help?"

Ron shrugged, helplessly. "I don't know. It's just a feeling. But at least it's better than doing nothing!"

Eventually, Harry was persuaded and, feeling more guilty with every step, they made their way to the dungeon. Neither of them liked the idea of checking up on Hermione - especially under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak - but they felt they had to know what was going on, and there was no other way they could wander around the school at this late hour without attracting attention.

They reached the dungeon without much difficulty - there was a worrying moment when Filch seemed to hear something as they passed, but he moved off in the wrong direction - and they were soon outside the door to the classroom. Just in case Snape was inside, Harry knocked quietly and listened for an answer, then, hearing nothing, he reached out and turned the handle.

Locked. Raising his wand, he muttered "Alohomora!" and the lock clicked. With a last quick glance up and down the dark corridor to make sure no-one was around, they opened the door just enough to let them through and slipped inside. They shed the invisibility cloak as soon as the door was safely closed behind them, and looked around. The room was empty, but one bench in the center looked like someone was still working there. Ingredients were set out on the table, one with the packet left open and the contents half spilled onto the desk, several scrolls lay open, as though someone was in the middle of reading them, and the cauldron still had a handle protruding from it.

Harry's first thought was that Snape would be furious when he saw this. He hated disorganization, and would never have allowed anyone to leave their work out like that. They both stepped closer, to examine the items more closely.

"This is Hermione's stuff," said Ron, suddenly. "Look - that's her bag on the floor!"

He was right. Harry picked up some of the things from the desk, acknowledging, unhappily, that they were hers. "Why would she have left everything here like this?" he asked, bewildered.

Ron was just as mystified as he. "Snape'll kill her if he sees everything left like this! How could she have left it all?" They continued poking around, more and more baffled and concerned about why it was there.

"I wonder what happened to this potion," Harry muttered, stirring the blackened mixture and puzzling over its unusual consistency, which was thick and gloopy.

Ron, however, wasn't listening. Hermione's quill rested on one of the scrolls, looking like it was in use, and Ron was studying the neat writing. Most of it was in their friend's infuriatingly precise hand, but the last two lines, while equally immaculate, were a different style. It looked very familiar. Harry turned to see what had caught Ron's attention so much, and it was he, reading over the other's shoulder, who recognized the penmanship.

"That's Snape's writing," he gasped. "Look. It's the same as the labels on all these bottles." Harry tried to find some difference in the writing styles, to disprove his own statement, but could find nothing. There was no doubt about it - the last two lines of Hermione's notes were written by Professor Snape.

The same questions were going through the minds of both boys. Why was Hermione's work left out like this in such an un-Hermione-like way? Why was Snape's handwriting in her notes? Most importantly - Where was Hermione?

Ron voiced all of these difficulties for both of them in a single question. "What the hell is going on?"

A sharp voice from behind them made them both spin around.

"That's what I'd like to know!"

* * *

"Professor Snape?" Argus Filch's voice accompanied the insistent knocking that was penetrating Snape's sleep. The knock came again, then the voice, a little louder.

Damn the man! What could be so important that he would disturb people at this time of night?

Carefully, he moved to extricate himself from Hermione's sleeping arms, and pulled on his robe, irritably. If the caretaker knocked any more he would wake her. He strode to the door, pulling the heavy crimson drapes across the doorway between living room and bedroom as he passed. He pulled open the door and glared at the intruder.

"Yes, Filch?" He made no attempt to cover his annoyance, but Filch seemed not to notice.

"I thought that you might like to know, Professor," he began in a voice that grated on Snape's ears like nails down a blackboard, "that I've just caught two students breaking into your classroom. No doubt stealing ingredients from the stores, or brewing illicit potions."

Under normal circumstances, Snape would have dealt with the matter himself, immediately, but the thought of the warm and beautiful body in his bed overrode everything else, and he had no intention of leaving it for longer than was absolutely necessary. "Then please be good enough to handle the matter yourself, and I will speak with you in the morning. Arrange for them to report to me tomorrow night at eight o'clock for detention."

Filch seemed to take this as confirmation that he had done the right thing. "Certainly, Professor. And I will also arrange to have the mess they've made in the classroom cleaned up."

It was an offhand remark, but it triggered alarm bells in Snape's mind. Hermione's things were where they had left them. That must be what Filch meant. Quickly, he interceded. "No. I'll look at the evidence myself in the morning. Leave everything exactly where it is and touch nothing!"

The caretaker seemed to feel that this would be very suitable, and left to deal with the two students. Despite Snape's dislike of the man, he had to admit that their ideas on the severity of punishments for rule-breakers were very much in line. Filch would deal with the wrongdoers appropriately, and he already had a suitable task for them in detention the following evening.

His thoughts returned to his bed, and he locked the door and returned to Hermione. Her arms slipped around him once again as he slid into bed beside her. She didn't wake, but smiled in her sleep as he stroked her face. He watched her for a long time.

What had he done to deserve this angel? She was so beautiful, so gentle, so forgiving. She would have every right to hate him, but she treated him like he was someone special. Who else would do that? Even amongst the teachers, there were few people who would call him a friend. Hermione was the first person in a very long time who actually chose to spend time with him. She enjoyed his company and liked to talk with him. She was interested in what he had to say, cared about what he thought. Whatever he had done to deserve this, he knew that he felt more loved, more needed than at any time he could ever remember before.

He had never been in love before, and the feelings were new to him. He ached when she wasn't with him, felt elated when she was. He admired everything about her - her mind, her body, her soul - the way she smiled at him made him feel like his heart was on fire, and being in her presence was bringing out the best in him. Don't ruin this, Snape, he told himself.

He drew her warm body close and drifted back into sleep, the words formed on his lips and softly escaped. "I love you, Hermione."

There was a soft smile on each face as they slept.

* * *

Several floors above them, approaching the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Harry were much less happy. Things could not have gone worse for them that night. They had not only failed to find Hermione, they now had considerably more worries about her than when they'd set out, after finding her things left in the Potions classroom like that. Secondly, they had earned themselves a detention with Snape the following night, and thirdly, Harry's invisibility cloak was still in the dungeon where they had left it.

Filch had not seen the cloak, and they'd considered trying to go back for it, but the caretaker's promise to be watching the classroom made that impossible. They'd been told that the room would be left until the morning, so that Snape could see the state of the room. He would know immediately whose cloak it was and would probably confiscate it indefinitely. Worst of all, the rest of the things he would find in there were Hermione's. When he saw them, would that put her project in jeopardy? He had been so horrible to her in the last couple of classes - far worse than usual - that they were sure he was looking for any excuse to go back on his word to let her complete her project. It meant so much to her.

Dreading the morning, they trudged up to their beds, knowing that they had no option but to wait.

* * *

 _A/N (28-Apr-2018): I have to be away for the next couple of weeks, to attend a funeral. I'll try to be writing, but I'm not sure how much time or mental energy I will have. (Hint: reviews are great motivation for fan-fic authors). I'll post if and when I can._


	11. Dumbledore

**Chapter 11 - Dumbledore**

Despite her wish to stay in Severus' arms - and Severus' bed - all morning, Hermione had to get moving. She had to clear up her things in the classroom and get her bag, then head back to the Gryffindor tower to her room before anyone realized she had not been back last night. Harry and Ron might have stayed up to wait for her, but she would just have to tell them that she arrived very late.

The professor went first into the Potions classroom, to check that all was clear, then Hermione followed. She began collecting her things together as Severus cleared up the spilled ingredients and ruined potion.

Suddenly, something caught her eye on the floor behind a desk. Her stomach gave a jolt as she picked it up, recognizing it immediately. "Severus!" She held it up to him, knowing that he would recognize it as well. It was Harry's invisibility cloak.

The implications of this hit Snape with a shock. "Damn the boy!" he snapped, angrily. "Why can't he just stay out of things that are nothing to do with him?" Quickly, he told Hermione of Filch's visit in the night. "I had no idea he was talking about Potter and Weasley."

Hermione thought quickly. It seemed that Filch did not know about the invisibility cloak, but Harry and Ron would assume that Snape would find it. Unless - - - "I'll take the cloak with me," she said. "I'll tell them that I left my things here last night, and left Gryffindor early this morning to get them. I found the cloak and brought it back."

"How will you explain last night?"

Again, she thought. "If Filch was at your door around one o'clock, then we know that they weren't in the tower at that time. If I say I arrived then, they won't know I wasn't there all night."

Their stories now straight, Hermione headed for the door, pausing for a final embrace.

Snape sighed. "I hate the fact that you have to lie to them. Deception doesn't suit you."

"Would you rather I told them the truth?" she laughed.

* * *

Hermione was very glad that she'd taken the invisibility cloak back to the Gryffindor tower, as it went some way towards smoothing things over with her friends. She really couldn't see how they could blame her for what had happened - after all, it was they who were spying on her - but neither could she get too angry with them for their underhand methods. She was lying to them, and it was sweet that they were worried about her.

She had rushed to her room as soon as she'd got through the portrait hole, grabbed her books for her first class, and been sitting in the common-room waiting for them when they'd come down for breakfast.

"Ron! Harry!" she called, as soon as she saw them. "What on earth happened last night? I went out early to get my books from the Potions classroom, and found your cloak there!"

Harry gaped as she handed it out to him. "You mean Snape didn't get it?"

"He won't have even been into the classroom yet," she told them. "He left last night while I was working, and said he wouldn't be back. I left my things there last night, then went back to get them early this morning."

Ron was breathing a sigh of relief. "We thought Snape was going to kill you when he saw everything left there. But ... even if you planned to go back this morning, it's not like you to leave things in a mess like that." Clearly he was still suspicious.

At least for this, Hermione could tell them half the truth. "Well, when my boyfriend came in, I really wasn't thinking about my project." Ron and Harry were looking very uncomfortable about this, but she continued. "I know it's not like me, but can't I be spontaneous occasionally?"

Clearly, the two boys found the topic of Hermione's love life a little uncomfortable, and Harry changed the subject, or so he thought, to Professor Snape. Breakfast was spent discussing what punishment they would receive for being in his classroom in the middle of the night. Hermione heard all the details from them, about being dragged off to Filch's office, lectures being given, records being written and files being updated with this latest infraction. But having to deal with Filch was nowhere near as bad as the punishment they knew they were in for tonight. They thought of the previous detentions they'd had with Snape, and wondered what new horrors he would dream up for them this time.

Hermione found this an awkward conversation. The dislike of Snape had always been something they'd had very much in common, and, until recently, she would have joined in the conversation wholeheartedly. As far as Harry and Ron were concerned, nothing had changed in regard to the hated Potions Master, but for Hermione, it was as though they were talking about a completely different person. She had no idea how Severus would treat them tonight. Maybe his attitude had changed towards them, but she doubted it. And why should it? Severus had to be the one to determine how to act in this situation, and she would accept that. In the meantime, she simply had to grit her teeth and listen to her friends run down her lover, trying not to jump to his defense!

Avoiding listening to the conversation, her mind wandered happily back to the gentle kisses that had woken her.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice cut into her thoughts. "What's up? You were miles away!"

Not miles, thought Hermione, just in the dungeon.

"Nothing," she said, quickly. "I was just thinking that I could come down to the detention with you, and carry on working. I did get a bit distracted last night."

They finished breakfast and headed to their first class.

* * *

Straight after dinner that evening, the three friends were heading down to the dungeon - Ron and Harry miserable and dejected, Hermione with her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing Severus after so many long hours without him. Just as they were about to start down the long steps into the depth, a voice called out to them from behind.

"Miss. Granger?" It was Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione's fluttering heart stopped still. Stay calm, she told herself. It could be nothing.

"I'm glad I ran into you. I wonder if we might have a chat?" His voice was friendly and his smile warm, but Dumbledore was not one to give away too much.

She forced a smile and tried to keep her voice light. "Of course, Professor Dumbledore."

Harry and Ron paused with her, then at the Headmaster's "Carry on, Gentlemen. I believe you have a detention," they continued, reluctantly, down the steps.

* * *

Snape had had a very unproductive day. His first year class had been utterly useless, failing to produce a single effective shrinking potion between them, and as for his fourth-years - the less said about that class, the better. The pile of students' homework he had intended to mark that day lay, untouched, on his desk, and the test he needed to finish writing for the fifth-years remained incomplete.

Yet despite all of these things, he was in a surprisingly good mood. How could anything spoil his disposition after waking up next to Hermione? He wondered how things had gone with explaining things to Potter and Weasley. They were interfering little brats, but it was good to know that she had such concerned friends. No-one would notice or care if he didn't return home at night - except her. Still - that didn't alter the way he felt about the Potter boy. She wouldn't expect it to, he knew, and she would never ask for any special treatment of them because of their relationship. Those innocent, idealistic principles!

She would be here in a moment. They would have to act as they did in lessons - distant, even antagonistic - but at least he would be able to see her.

He heard a knock at the door, which then opened. Potter and Weasley.

Where was Hermione? He almost asked them, but held himself back. She did not have a detention - she had no reason, as far as they were concerned, to be here. Control yourself, Snape! She would arrive, in time, he was sure of it. For now he needed to focus on the students in front of him. He watched them nervously enter the classroom and stand in silence, waiting. He remained at his desk, studying them intently, but saying nothing. They twitched in front of him - unsure of what he had in mind for them. Finally, Weasley looked as though he were about to speak, but Snape, carefully waiting until the last awkward moment, interrupted him.

"I'm not going to ask you two what you were doing in here in the early hours of the morning," he snarled. "I don't want to hear your lies."

Weasley seemed determined to speak anyway. "Sir, we ..."

"Silence!" the teacher hissed.

The last thing he wanted was to get into the details of what they thought, and why they were there. He wasn't supposed to know anything about Hermione's things being there, or Potter's - James Potter's - invisibility cloak. Best to avoid the subject altogether. He focused on their detention task.

He had the book he required on a shelf, and he stood, reaching for it. It was a large book, and heavy, so that when dropped it on his desk it produced a very effective crash. They flinched visibly, and Snape sneered. "Your punishment for this evening will be to create a potion for me, at the request of another teacher," he told them. "I am, in fact, grateful to you both for breaking into my classroom last night, as I find the task of preparing this potion every year to be a particularly unpleasant one. You have given me the perfect way to avoid doing the distasteful task myself." He smiled mockingly, to emphasize his point. The two boys in front of him exchanged glances, and Snape was pleased to see the effect his words were having on them. They were absolutely true, in fact, and the excuse not to have to create the potion himself was perfect. Their timing could not have been better.

He continued, circling the two boys and watching them fidget, apprehensively, "Page four hundred and seventy-two of the book in front of you contains instructions on how to create Greenbottle's Tonic - used to enhance the soil in the greenhouses and gardens, to improve growth in the plants, and provide some protection against unwanted insects." He pointed to a row of fifteen jars lined up along one side of the classroom. Each jar stood tall enough to reach his knees. "You will produce enough of the tonic to fill each of those jars. Professor Sprout requires large quantities of the product." He indicated four enormous cauldrons set up in the middle of the room, where he had moved some of the workbenches aside.

For a moment, the two boys stood dumbfounded, staring at the bottles and cauldrons. Quite the intended effect! Snape snapped them out of it with a growl of "Get on with it!" and returned to his desk.

He made no attempt to conceal his close scrutiny of their work as they read the instructions and began the task. Their nervousness was clear, and they fumbled the ingredients as he watched. It would do them good to be put under pressure.

It took him a moment to form the words to ask about Hermione. For over five years, he had snapped at her and criticized her work, along with every other Gryffindor in his classes, but the change in his feelings towards her over the past few weeks had been so dramatic that he now found it almost impossible not to speak of her with affection. "I suppose Granger will be here this evening, to continue work on her project?" he asked, trying to make it sound like a nuisance he would have to endure.

Potter's news that she had been held up by Dumbledore caught him totally off guard. However many times he told himself that the headmaster knew nothing, a word or glance was enough to renew the fear of discovery. Once or twice over the last few days, he thought he had observed him watching him pensively over his coffee in the staffroom. Surely, if the old man suspected anything, he would have approached the teacher, not the student … but Dumbledore was not the most predictable of wizards.

Fighting the urge to charge out of the dungeon to find them, he continued his watch over the two students working in front of him. "Be careful with that bottle, Weasley!" he snapped, irritably.

Without thinking, he pushed himself out of his chair, wanting to pace the room, and making Potter jump. Catching himself, he forced his feet over to a cupboard, picked up a book from inside it and returned to his desk, where he sat, staring unseeing at the pages.

Itching to do something - anything - he waited.

* * *

"Shall we step in here?" Dumbledore gestured to a classroom to one side of the corridor, and stepped aside to allow Hermione to precede him.

Hermione's mind was racing with the possible reasons for the Headmaster's request for a 'chat'. He always seemed to know everything about what went on in the castle. Maybe he was intending to confront her about her relationship with Severus. Maybe he knew that she'd been spending nights in his room. Maybe ... This is pointless, she told herself. Just sit down and stay calm, or you'll end up blurting things out and ruin everything.

She sat on the edge of a desk, and watched as he, with a surprisingly nimble motion, did the same.

"About your project, Miss Granger," he began immediately. "I understand that your work is going extremely well."

Hermione was cautious, not sure where this was leading. "Thank you, Professor. I think I'm making good progress, and I'm enjoying working on it."

He smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Most sixth year projects are simply a study of current knowledge about a subject, but it does not surprise me to hear that your research will actually provide new knowledge and understanding in the field. I admit that I've taken a special interest in this project, and I mentioned it to an old - a very old - school friend of mine. He carries out his own research on this subject, and is, in fact, writing a book about the history of healing which has some close links to your project." Hermione was starting to lose her caution and become interested in this. Dumbledore continued, "He has expressed an interest in reviewing your work once it is complete, and possibly including your results in his book - giving, of course, full credit to yourself - if your findings prove useful."

This was incredible. "To get my research published would be amazing, Professor. Do you think he really would?"

"Of course he would, if the results merit publication - which I'm sure they will." Dumbledore beamed at her. "I thought you might be pleased about this!"

Pleased was not the word! She was ecstatic. Books were her life - her passion. To have her work published would be wonderful. She couldn't wait to tell Severus about this.

Dumbledore's face suddenly took on a more serious expression. "I'm glad to hear that you are taking such an interest in the practical side of this project, Miss Granger. I've heard that you've been spending a lot of time in the dungeon." Hermione felt the blood drain from her face at this abrupt change. Could this man read minds? His tone was casual, but she had a feeling that this was no off-hand remark.

Stay calm, Hermione, she told herself. "There's a lot of this project that can only be done through practical experimentation," she answered, trying to keep her voice steady, but convinced that her face was betraying her. "I know that I'm traditionally a bookworm, but theoretical research can only go so far."

"And you have embraced the practical aspects with vigor," Dumbledore remarked. He paused before continuing, giving Hermione the impression that he was choosing his next words very carefully. "Many students seem to find Professor Snape a difficult person to work with."

It was a statement, but Dumbledore seemed to expect a response. Like the professor, Hermione took a moment to choose her words. "I'm very glad that Professor Snape approved this project. I'm learning a lot."

His words were quiet. "He is a very knowledgeable man, and a powerful wizard."

Hermione pretended to misunderstand him. "He's not helping me with my project, Professor. It's all my own research."

"Naturally," Dumbledore responded quickly. "I would expect nothing less of you." He considered her, thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. "On another note, Miss Granger, I hear that you have a mysterious new ..." he paused at the word, "boyfriend."

This drew a sharp breath from Hermione. The fact that this followed so closely on the heels of his comments about Severus hardly seemed like a coincidence. Was he deliberately baiting her - waiting for a reaction? She said nothing, and after a moment or two of silence, Dumbledore continued.

"I'm not in the habit of interfering with the personal lives of students, Miss Granger, so I won't say too much about this." He was staring intently at her, and she held steady under his penetrating gaze. "You are of age, you have a great deal of sense, and you are mature enough to know your own mind. However, if things are as I suspect, then I need hardly tell you that I cannot approve. I feel the need to request that you exercise some caution - and discretion - in this matter."

Oh, Merlin.

Hermione could see two possibilities. Either Dumbledore was simply warning her about the dangers of an intimate relationship at her age, or he knew exactly whom they were talking about. It was possible that his suspicions related only to the nature of the relationship, not to the identity of the other party. And yet ... his comments about Severus ...

In a moment of strength, she looked up into his face. His expression was grave and concerned, but not angry. She held his gaze for a long time, trying to read what was behind those unfathomable eyes, but eventually looked away.

"Yes, Professor."

There was silence between them for a moment, then Dumbledore stood and gave her a smile. "I will keep my friend informed about the progress of your work. I know he is keen to know your results." His voice was almost back to its customary cheerfulness. "And now, I believe you are expected in the dungeon, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned to him as she reached the doorway, unsure of whether to say more. His back towards her, he appeared to be staring out of the window, and his stance did not invite further conversation. She left in silence.

Out of sight of the classroom, she stopped, leaning against the cold stone wall of the corridor, and glad of its support. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths. Her relationship with Severus seemed to be getting more complicated by the day.


	12. Greenbottle's Tonic

**Chapter 12 - Greenbottle's Tonic**

Hermione stopped in disgust as she got close to the dungeon classroom. What on Earth was that smell? It was like a wall that hit her as soon as she got within three feet of the door, and it took a great deal of effort to force herself forward and into the classroom.

The Potions classroom was a mess. Harry and Ron were standing in the center of the room, with four large cauldrons around them. Their sleeves were rolled up to their elbows, and their arms were stained a dark green. The same green stained their robes, the benches, and the floor. Each cauldron was filled almost to the brim with the dark mix, bubbling loudly, and occasionally producing large bubbles, which would then pop, releasing clouds of green gas into the air, and showering the area with a heavy dust, which settled over everything. Harry's face showed smudges of green, where he had wiped his cheek with a dirty hand, and Ron had even managed to get the stuff in his hair, the red and green contrasting strongly.

Between trying not to gag at the foul smell which seemed to get stronger by the minute, and trying not to laugh at the sight of her friends (who did not seem to find the situation even remotely amusing), Hermione almost choked herself, and covered her mouth and nose in an attempt to hide both sensations.

"What are you making?" she finally managed to splutter.

"It's called Greenbottle's Tonic,' Ron answered her grumpily, "and we need to make fifteen jars of it for Professor Sprout." He pointed to the row of large empty bottles - seemingly the only things in the room that were still not green.

Harry motioned towards Snape's office. "Snape said that if you wanted to work on your project, you could work in there." He quickly turned to stir one of his cauldrons, narrowly preventing it from bubbling over. "He said he'd put a charm on it, so he didn't have to smell this stuff! Urggh!"

That, at least, was a relief - partly because she needed to speak to him alone, but mostly (and this now seemed to be taking priority) to get away from that smell! She mouthed a "Sorry" to her friends, knocked at the office door, and entered in response to Snape's irritable grunt.

Severus stood hurriedly as she entered, waiting for her to close the door before speaking. "Potter told me Dumbledore stopped you!" he said urgently. "What happened?"

After a couple of relieved breaths of the cleaner air, Hermione answered him, crossing the room to perch on a chair. "We have a problem," she said simply. As closely as possible, she recounted the conversation she'd had with the headmaster, trying to remember the exact words that had been used, in the hope that Severus could to glean more information from them than she could.

"He said he'd heard that you had been spending a lot of time in the dungeon?" he asked, repeating her words.

Hermione nodded. "And then said that some people found you difficult to work with. He seemed to be trying to see my reaction."

The words that seemed to worry Snape most were Dumbledore's comments that if his suspicions were correct, he could not approve. What did he suspect?

"Do you think he really knows about us, Severus?" Hermione asked, tentatively, reaching for his hand.

He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "Yes," his voice was serious. "I can't be certain, but I believe that he knows everything." A faint smile caught the corner of his mouth as he re-considered this statement. "Well - perhaps not everything!"

Hermione smiled at that. He was a mystery to her. For more than five years, he had been cold, aloof, harsh and even frightening. Now, he was a passionate man, with a love of life and a dry sense of humor. Had he always been this way and she'd simply missed it?

She forced her thoughts back to the problem in hand. "Professor Dumbledore said that I was old enough to make up my own mind," she said thoughtfully. "He said I should use caution and discretion." Snape said nothing, but allowed her to continue. "Assuming that he does know, does that mean that he won't interfere as long as we're discreet, even though he disapproves?"

"I just don't know, Hermione," he answered, his shoulders sagging. "Dumbledore is a law unto himself. The fact that he had said nothing to me almost makes me feel that he is not sure, but ... I just don't know."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose all we can do now is to be discreet, and assume that he knows."

"No," contradicted Snape, "we must continue to assume that he doesn't know! We need to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible."

Hermione thought of something else that Dumbledore had said. "What do you think he meant by 'use caution'?" she asked Severus.

Again - that smile at the corner of his mouth. "I think he was telling you to be careful about getting mixed up with someone so - dark! It's good advice, Ms. Granger."

Hermione smiled. "Actually, the phrase he used was 'a powerful wizard'! I like the sound of ..."

Both of them were startled by a sudden knock at the door. Hermione instantly jumped up and moved towards the store cupboard, and looked deeply engrossed in searching for a missing bottle by the time Ron had opened the door at Snape's growl.

"Sir," Ron said, poking his head round the door, "we've run out of Bowerroot." As he spoke, he made the most of the air inside the office, then hurried back to the classroom, as the professor snapped out instructions on where to find more of the ingredient.

"Maybe it would be best," began Hermione, as the door closed behind him, "if we didn't see each other tomorrow. It might let things cool down a little." She hated saying it. Not seeing Severus would be torture, but they could not let things get out of hand with Dumbledore so interested in what was going on.

Snape seemed to see this too, but the pain in his eyes was evident. "Not seeing you could be the death of me, Hermione," he moaned. "But you're right. Discretion."

Feeling unable to stay in the office for too long without raising suspicion, Hermione left shortly afterwards. She stopped at the doorway to give him a long and longing kiss, but eventually had to force herself to leave. She was a little behind on her schoolwork, and headed towards the common room, making the most of her time alone. It was very late by the time Harry and Ron returned to the Gryffindor tower, still green and reeking of the foul-smelling potion. As they, in turn, questioned her about what Dumbledore wanted, she realized, with a pang, that she had not mentioned the possibility of her work being published to Severus. She couldn't wait to talk to him about it!

* * *

The previous night, Harry and Ron had been too tired to ask much about Hermione's chat with Dumbledore, but the next morning, they were keen to hear the full story.

"Did he say when it would be published?" asked Ron, eagerly, as they headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

"No," replied Hermione, "but he said he'd be keeping his friend informed about the progress, and it sounds like the book is already half written."

"It's a pity you don't know his name," said Harry. "We could have looked in the library for anything else he's published." Hermione agreed, and wished that she'd thought to ask Dumbledore for his friend's name, but at the time she had been thinking of the other things the headmaster had wanted to discuss.

By the time they reached the Great Hall, Harry was all for going to Dumbledore to ask him more about his friend's book, but Hermione was not keen on the idea of approaching him. "Maybe he doesn't want to tell me too much, so he doesn't get my hopes up," she suggested. "Let's just wait. He'll tell me when he wants to."

She was extremely pleased that Ron and Harry were taking such an interest in her news. They were good friends, and they seemed almost more pleased for her than she was for herself. Ordinarily, she would have been over the moon about the news, but her excitement was dampened by the other things on her mind.

Changing the subject, she asked, "So, what happened in your detention?"

The two boys told her the whole story. Snape had given them the book that contained the instructions for the Tonic, and had then sat at his desk staring at them.

"I don't know what was up with him," said Ron, "but he seemed in a really bad mood. He just sat there staring and criticizing for ages."

The potion they were making had been going okay for the first ten minutes or so. The ingredients had already been prepared for them by two Ravenclaw second years, who had been unfortunate enough to land themselves with detention a few nights previously. (Severus had told Hermione about the hilariously gruesome incident that had led to that detention, but she kept this news to herself.) The potion had been a little messy and they'd spilled some from one of the cauldrons onto the floor, but they thought things were going well - especially when Professor Snape had finally stopped scrutinizing their every move, and left the classroom. He'd told them he would be in his office and that 'Granger' could work on her project in there, if she ever arrived. At first, they had thought it a little odd that the professor would suggest that Hermione work in his office, but they soon realized the reason.

"The sneaky git must have been watching for when we'd be adding the leech juice," complained Ron, bitterly, "because he left just before everything went crazy!" The potion had called for two drops of the dark liquid in each mixture, and the boys had added this in all innocence. Without warning, the green potion had begun bubbling and steaming, pouring over the edges of the cauldrons and sending up plumes of green smoke. That was when the smell had hit them.

Harry screwed up his face at the memory. "No wonder he told us he wanted to give someone detention so he didn't have to make that stuff himself!" he seethed. "He got out just in time. It had all been okay until a few minutes before you arrived!"

"It was pretty foul by the time I got there!" Hermione agreed, trying to sound sympathetic, but holding back her laughter once again, at the memory of the two of them standing in the middle of the classroom, covered in the dark green potion. "You're both still green, by the way," she told them. Their hands were still stained, even though they looked liked they had been scrubbed raw in an attempt to remove the coloring, and there was a trace of the stuff on Harry's face. Even a small section of Ron's hair still showed evidence of their detention task. By the look of it, the only way to remove that would be to cut his hair!

"Anyway," Ron continued, "it took us ages to get the stuff ready and into the bottles. Then we had to clean it all up. That was just as bad as making it."

They told her that Professor Snape had, at least, given them the option to finish cleaning up that morning, but they had been determined to get it out of the way. His mood had evidently improved a little by the time they left, which Harry put down to the fact that he had enjoyed making them suffer so much.

"The only thing that can make him happy is to make everyone else miserable!" he stated. Hermione suppressed a wry smile. She happened to know one or two more ways to make him happy!

Instinctively, she glanced round to the teachers' table in time to catch a pair of dark eyes on her from across the room. She looked back at Harry and smiled, knowing that those dark eyes knew the smile was for them. "You're right, Harry," she grinned. "He just lives to make everyone else's life Hell!"

She couldn't help another glance at the top table, but this time it was not Severus that caught her attention, it was Dumbledore. His gaze was not on her, though, it was on the Potions Master, and this must have registered on her face, as, when she looked back to Severus, he had turned away.

Hermione purposefully looked away from the staff table, but Ron had apparently caught someone's eye, and was giving a cheerful grin in that direction. "Well, at least they're not all like Snape," he smiled. "Good old Dumbledore. It's such great news about your project, Hermione!"

She smiled weakly, and avoided looking over at the headmaster, wondering how much he had seen of the glances that had passed between herself and Severus. It was beginning to appear that spending time apart was not enough to avoid the headmaster's suspicions. It seemed that, even in a crowded room, they could barely keep the fire under control!

As Hermione, Harry and Ron headed out of the Great Hall, a voice called out to them, and Professor Sprout hurried to catch up. "I'm so glad I caught you," she said. "Professor Snape brought down my batch of Greenbottle's Tonic first thing this morning. I wanted to thank you two boys for the wonderful job you did with it, and to award you ten points each for Gryffindor." She looked over her shoulder, then leaned conspiratorially towards the three of them. "Just don't tell Professor Snape!" she whispered. "He'd hate you to get points for something you did in detention!"

The four of them laughed and the professor set off down the corridor. Then she seemed to think of something and turned back. "You know, my Uncle Albert taught me almost everything I know about Herbology," she said, "but he did occasionally run into problems - such as," she gestured towards Harry and Ron's hands, "turning green from making Greenbottle's Tonic! You might want to look in the library for a book called '101 Magical Gardening Disasters (and How to Recover From Them)'. We used to have to use it a lot, with my uncle around!" She gave them a grin, and headed off in the direction of the staffroom.

"We'd better get to the library then, as we all have a free period," said Hermione, setting off that way.

Ron and Harry followed. "I'm getting this strange feeling of déjà vu," said Ron. "I think I've heard you mention the library once or twice before."

* * *

Snape waited until the three students were well clear of the Great Hall before leaving it. It was best to avoid running into Hermione wherever possible - especially as he seemed to be finding it impossible to keep his eyes off her while she was around. How much had Dumbledore seen? He almost wished that the old professor would confront him and get it over with - it had to be better than constantly worrying about what was going on in the headmaster's mind.

Worse, still, if the situation was so apparent to Dumbledore, did that mean that others could see it, too? He thought he always had his emotions under control, but Hermione was changing that. She was throwing him off balance and confusing his feelings. Maybe his face was betraying his emotions for the entire world to see.

No! He had to control this. Objectivity and control, Snape, he chided himself.

He would have liked to get out of the castle and clear his head, but he had classes to teach. It wasn't until the evening that he had chance to leave the school. Without really thinking about it, he headed for the lake. There was a cold wind outside and, coming straight from dinner, he had no cloak with him, but that was good. Perhaps it would help to clear his mind, and he had never been worried by the cold.

He allowed his thoughts to drift as he walked, letting his feet and his mind lead him wherever they would.

How could things have changed so quickly? A month ago, he had known who he was and what he felt - but then he had encountered a part of his being of which he had not been aware. His feelings for Hermione had come out of nowhere but they were so powerful. His emotional control had been severely shaken, but it was worth it.

Whatever his feeling about the past few weeks, he knew that what he felt now was somehow more 'real' than everything that had gone before. As though he were suddenly seeing the world in its true colors in the bright sunlight, instead of in shadows. Whatever Dumbledore thought or knew or said no longer seemed to matter. He had seen the look in Hermione's eyes when they were together. He had felt her touch as she kissed him the night before. Those were the things that mattered to him now.

A little month.

His feet led him on as he thought. Occasionally, he stopped and stood still, drinking in the air around him, or looking across the dark lake, then set off once again, with no direction in mind. The peace and the solitude were exactly what he needed, and when he returned to the castle many hours later, he felt as relaxed and refreshed as though he had been out for a short stroll.

* * *

In the Gryffindor common room, Hermione Granger was curled comfortably in an armchair in front of the fire. It was late evening, and many of the Gryffindors had already gone to bed, but she stayed to enjoy the peace in the glow of the flames. She gently stroked the sleeping cat on her lap as she held her book to the light. "Practicality in Potions" - it was a book Severus had given to her from his library. She smiled at the thought, and read on.

In his rooms in the dungeon, Severus Snape sat comfortably in an armchair in front of the fire. He turned his book over in his hand - "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare". He had owned it for many years, but, while some pages were well worn, others had never been turned. He allowed the pages to flick through his fingers. Maybe he would select something different, tonight. The Sonnets, maybe? He smiled at the thought, and read on.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE (14-May-2018): Well, I'm home from the funeral I had to go to. I took a few days for vacation while I was there, as well as spending time catching up with family._

 _I did a bit of writing while I was gone, but not much. I'm enjoying writing this, but I feel like I'm not getting a lot of feedback, or knowing whether people are enjoying reading it. To be honest, I'm surprised that after 30000 words this story has only 7 reviews - it makes me think that people aren't enjoying it and that it's not worth continuing. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter._


	13. Buttons

Chapter 13 - Buttons

Hermione and Snape stayed apart for a few days, except for an evening working in the dungeon in the company of Oliver and Stephen. Their projects were going well, apart from a dropped bottle of armadillo bile which earned Oliver a sharp swat over the head with the book that happened to be in Snape's hand. Despite this, the atmosphere during their project evenings was relatively pleasant. Although unable to completely throw off the appearance of dislike and even hostility, Snape was able to treat all three students with something akin to professional respect for their choice in their projects and their general competence in the work. It was possible to enjoy discussion of the subject in a relatively relaxed and comfortable environment without suspicion.

Most of Saturday morning was spent visiting Hagrid. His face was beaming as he proudly showed the three students his pumpkins, all ready for the upcoming Halloween festivities. "Reckon I'll carve 'em in a few days," he had said, happily, "ready to go into the Great Hall on Halloween mornin'. I'm right proud of 'em this year. Better than ever!"

Hagrid told them all about his latest trip into the forbidden forest, and the unicorn hair he had collected from a beautiful female who was due to foal soon. He was looking forward to introducing his classes to the new foal, when it's mother permitted it.

After a walk with Fang, the students were invited to stay for lunch. Dubious of what Hagrid would try to feed them, they made their usual excuses and headed back to the Great Hall for something a little more predictable to eat.

Hermione had planned on heading down to the dungeon in the afternoon, but as she turned the corner leading to the steps, she saw Professor Dumbledore looking as though he may be going that way too. He didn't see her, and she wanted to keep it that way. The purpose of not seeing Severus for a few days had been to try to avoid their relationship looking too obvious. The last thing she wanted now was for the headmaster to see her heading for the dungeon, so she made a sharp right and caught up with Harry and Ron in the library. Regretfully, she decided that it would be safer to leave it until later, and settled down for an afternoon of study.

Snape was not at dinner, but this was not unusual for a weekend - she knew he often preferred the solitude of his office or rooms to the crowd of the Great Hall. She parted from Ron and Harry as they returned to Gryffindor, careful not to let them see she was heading towards the dungeons. Thankfully, they didn't ask questions when she told them simply "I'm going to meet someone. Don't wait up - I might be back late!" They were still clearly intrigued by the mystery of her new boyfriend, but she welcomed the fact that they did not continue to pester her about it.

Reaching the bottom of the steps and turning towards the classroom, something in her subconscious made her stop - some intuition, telling her that she was being watched. Catching something out of the corner of her eye, she ducked just in time to avoid a book, which narrowly missed her head as it was hurled through the air.

"Peeves!" Her guess was confirmed by his inane cackle as another book flew past her. "What are you doing here?" This was the last thing she needed right now. All she wanted to do was sink into her lover's arms and cuddle by the fire, but the annoying poltergeist could very easily spoil this.

"Don't need a reason," he said, haughtily. "But you do! What's Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes-Always-Does-Her-Homework doing here? This isn't your House."

"Did you follow me, Peeves?" she asked, avoiding his question.

He cackled again. "Wanted to see what you were up to." He suddenly swooped down on her, his mischievous face close to hers. "Where are you going?"

Hermione had to think fast. "I'm not going anywhere with you following me. In fact," she ducked underneath him and began to re-trace her steps, "I think I'll head back to the Great Hall. Maybe there's more desert left."

Peeves was disappointed. "Spoilsport!" he whined, picking up one of the thrown books and taking aim at her head once again. At that moment, a bright figure appeared from a side passage a little way off, coming closer to them. A chill went down Hermione's spine as she made out the shape of the Bloody Baron. Peeves immediately bolted in the opposite direction and, at the thought of encountering the Slytherin ghost in the dark corridor, she had to admit that he probably had the right idea. Hurriedly, she turned and walked straight into the silent shape standing behind her. For a second she panicked as strong arms gripped her, but relaxed as Severus' voice spoke her name.

"Professor Snape," she said, for the benefit of the ghost still advancing on them, but, as she turned, it vanished.

Severus seemed satisfied with himself. "A very effective method of getting rid of Peeves!" he said. "Although you didn't seem too keen on my little diversion."

Hermione smiled awkwardly, and shivered. "Let's just say that Peeves isn't the only one who would rather not run into the Bloody Baron. He's not the most popular ghost in the school."

There was a note of humor in his voice as they headed into the Potions classroom. "And I'm not the most popular teacher," he said, "but I like to think I'm not all bad!"

The door to the dungeon classroom closed quietly behind them and, finally in privacy, they closed the distance between them. "You have a few redeeming qualities, I suppose," she smiled.

The glow of the fire was the only light in Snape's living-room, reflecting redly onto the contented faces of the two cozy bodies in the armchair.

After a few days apart, it was wonderful to be able to talk and simply enjoy each other's company. Naturally, Snape had heard from Dumbledore about the possibility of having her work published. He had had the impression that the headmaster was watching him closely for his reaction, but he could hardly have survived so many years as a double agent without his skills at hiding his thoughts.

Snape was as happy for Hermione as Ron and Harry had been, telling her how much she deserved this opportunity.

"Teachers in this school have been praising your abilities almost since the day you arrived," he told her. "Of course, I always disagreed and stated my opinion that the ability to memorize facts from textbooks denoted neither true knowledge nor understanding."

"And what about now?" Hermione asked.

"I have had to admit to certain staff members that your abilities are more impressive than I had previously realized."

Ron and Harry's comments on their detention amused Snape very much when Hermione relayed them, saying that they had been absolutely right about him escaping to his office just before they added the leech juice. He was not, however, impressed to hear of Professor Sprout's disclosure of the means of removing the stains.

"Damn that woman," he growled. "The first time she asked me to make that foul stuff for her, I tried everything to remove the stains on my hands. She swore that the only way was to wait for it to fade! My skin was green for three weeks!" In the interests of preserving peace amongst the staff, Hermione decided not to mention the points that Ron and Harry had earned for Gryffindor.

* * *

On Sunday, Hermione, Harry and Ron narrowly avoided a run-in with the real Bloody Baron in the dungeons. Having found as much as they could about the hidden tunnels in the library, they had headed back to the dungeons for more exploration. They had determined which areas of the dungeon were most likely for the beginning of the passage, and were focusing the search there, armed with some newly-learned spells for revealing hidden magic.

The Marauders' Map was their guide as they headed down below the level of the potions classroom, but they were so focused on finding the right way that they didn't notice the moving name on the map until the Bloody Baron was almost on top of them. Quickly, they dodged down a side passage until he had passed, and breathed sighs of relief.

"That was close," said Ron. "How come all the most horrible people in Hogwarts have to hang out down here?" he demanded.

Harry laughed. "Better watch out, Hermione. You're in bad company spending so much time in the dungeons."

At some point in the future, Hermione knew, they would have to know the truth about her and Severus. She had a feeling that Harry's sentiment would not change when he knew exactly whose company she had been keeping. Better make sure that that future was a long way away.

For the moment, though, she was simply enjoying spending time with her friends. Following the map to the furthest reaches of the dungeon, they explored every room leading from the passages. They were curious to know what they had been used for. Some appeared to be storerooms, some cells for long-ago prisoners, many empty with no hint of to what use they had been put. Hermione wondered about the cells. Who could have been kept in them and when? She had heard Filch talking about the punishments he had been allowed to mete out to students before Dumbledore became headmaster, but she had never really thought him to be serious. After seeing the chains in the cells, she was no longer quite so sure.

In each stone room and passageway, they tried out their spells to find any traces of hidden magic but to no avail. It was a slow process and by lunchtime the three were tired, sweaty and getting grumpy.

"We're never going to find anything down there," Ron complained as they headed into the great hall for lunch. "We've been down there for hours and only covered a tiny part of what's shown on the map. I'm not going down there this afternoon. I want some sunshine!"

"Hermione said she's meeting her boyfriend this afternoon, anyway," agreed Harry. "It would take even longer without you, Hermione: you're way better at revealing spells than us."

"Maybe a revealing spell would make you tell us who your boyfriend is," suggested Ron. "Or we could ask Snape for some Veritaserum. He's such a kind person, I'm sure he'd help us out."

Hermione sighed. "I'm just not ready to tell you yet," she told them. She was about to turn to leave, but stopped. "I promise that you will know eventually, though. I want this to be a long-term relationship, and I want you all to be friends, but I just can't tell you right now."

As she headed out of the great hall, her friends stared after her, more puzzled than ever. The fact that she wasn't telling them made them sure that she didn't think they would approve, but how could that be? The only students they would disapprove of would be Slytherins, but she'd definitely denied that. Harry could think of no boy in the school who Hermione could be going out with that she would need to keep so secret.

He stopped. "Ron," he said slowly, "do you think … could Hermione's 'boyfriend' be a girl?"

Ron also stopped dead in his tracks.

"Bloody Hell," Ron said, softly. "I hadn't thought of that."

They stared at each other for a minute, then headed out of the castle and towards the lake in silent thought.

"Nah," said Ron eventually. "Hermione's not … We'd know!"

"Probably," said Harry. "It's just a thought. There's something really strange about her being so secretive."

"Look, she went out with Krum," argued Ron, "and she's talked about her boyfriend. I suppose she could just be saying that to throw us off the scent, but I don't think so."

"Then who could it be?" wondered Harry in frustration.

"No idea, mate. We'll just have to wait for her to trust us. She's said it's not a Slytherin, so it can't be Malfoy, and I can't think of anyone worse than him!"

They headed to the lake, glad to be in the sunshine after a morning in the dankness of the dungeons.

* * *

Snape woke up comfortable and happy on Monday morning. Hermione's naked body was pressed against his and her breathing was soft and peaceful. He woke her with a kiss and she smiled.

"I wish I could wake up like this every morning," she told him.

"I love waking up with you," he agreed, "but I worry every time you have to sneak back out in the morning. Every time you stay here is dangerous."

Hermione sighed. "At least the sixth years have their own rooms instead of dormitories," she said, "so as long as I leave early enough, no-one except the Fat Lady knows I've been gone all night."

Snape frowned. "Who is the Fat Lady?" he asked warily.

Hermione laughed. "Her portrait guards the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower," she said. "She said that she's not allowed to report to teachers on students' activities unless they're in immediate danger, but she does enjoy giving me disapproving glares."

They took a leisurely shower together and prepared for the day.

As Snape dressed, he noticed Hermione watching him as she toweled her hair. She was smiling.

"Is something amusing?" he asked, buttoning up his shirt.

"The way you button yourself up every day," she smiled. "It's like a ritual, and you look so focused."

He nodded. "I find it helpful. At times I have needed to present a carefully-constructed image to the world, and taking a few moments to focus on something so precise is a useful way to ensure that I am in complete control of my emotions and my actions. It also helps me to shut out some of the memories and emotions that have no place in Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded, thoughtfully. "So all buttoned and precise, you're the Potions Master? Always controlled and meticulous and disciplined."

"Exactly." He raised an eyebrow. "It always worked until recently, when a captivating young witch managed to find a way inside my secure teacher confines."

He put on his frock coat and continued his ritual, starting and the bottom button and working his way up, watching her as he did so. She was pulling on her school uniform in a manner totally opposite to his methodical rite - haphazardly pulling on her shirt, but leaving it untucked while she found her tie. Her feet were still bare beneath her school skirt, and her hair was hanging slightly damp down her back.

"This, Ms. Granger, is precisely why I had reservations about you wearing your school uniform in here. I am trying to maintain control as a respectable teacher, and you are filling my head with schoolgirl images that are entirely inappropriate."

Hermione giggled. She slipped on her shoes and picked up her bag. "Well, I would love to find out exactly what you think of me in my uniform, but I have to get to the Gryffindor common room before anyone else is about." She kissed him, lovingly. "I'll see you in class, Professor."


	14. The Potions Master's Day

_I am not comfortable about this, Ms. Hilt._

I know, Severus. I have my concerns about it, too, but Hermione really wants to do this.

 _She is young and naive._

Don't let her hear you say that!

 _It feels unnatural to me. Out of character._

You're accusing me of writing you out of character? You spent years as a double agent. Surely you can manage a little play acting?

 _It was never for play, Ms. Hilt._

Just relax and go with the flow. You'll enjoy it.

 _Of course I will enjoy it! That still doesn't make it a good idea. There will be consequences._

I told you I'm cautious about this chapter, too, but let's let Hermione have her fun. Whatever the consequences, we'll get you through. You know I'll look after you, Severus.

 _Very well. I will do this for Hermione._

 _Mutters Ms. Rowling would not approve._

This is fanfiction, Severus. Have fun.

* * *

 **Chapter** **14** \- **The** **Potions** **Master's** **Day**

Snape was habitually an early riser, so the early mornings necessary to give Hermione chance to get back to Gryffindor Tower were nothing new to him. He found his time preparing for morning lessons or marking work relaxing. This morning he had the satisfying task of collecting fresh potion ingredients from the gardens. Pomona Sprout would have preferred to deliver them to him, but his exacting standards made him ignore her annoyance and pick many of them himself. The air felt bitterly cold, which was ideal for Dragon Gorse, whose stems were best harvested during a hard early morning frost.

The grass crackled underfoot as he made his way back to the castle, and his breath clouded in front of him. His fingers still felt chilly after he had taken his harvest to his office and sat down at the staff table for breakfast.

"Severus, you've been at my Dragon Gorse again!" came an irritated voice from behind him.

"I have," he confirmed, without turning.

"If you don't stop doing that, I'll be putting Venomous Tentacula around my herb beds!"

"I picked only the plants which need to be handled delicately," he told her. "I will be happy to leave the gathering of Bubotuber Pus to your students, Pomona."

The Herbology teacher gave an exasperated huff, and moved to her own seat for breakfast, muttering under her breath about footprints and damaged leaves in her gardens.

Hermione entered the Great Hall a few moments later, and sat down with her friends without looking at him. He followed her example and ignored her during breakfast, then headed to the dungeons knowing that she would soon be following him for the sixth-year potions lesson.

Because potions was not a compulsory subject for sixth years, the worst of the incompetents had been weeded out, and he could be reasonably certain that there would be no major disasters during lessons. For the previous week's homework he had told the class to read about Developing Solutions, used to create moving photographs, and he now set them the task of brewing the tricky potion while he walked around the room, observing and commenting.

"Hopkins, you are stirring a potion, not your pumpkin juice. You should have learned some delicacy by now!"

"Ms. Patil. Ms. Brocklehurst! Concentrate on your work and stop gossiping."

"Weasley, your inability to follow simple instructions never ceases to amaze me."

Hermione's solution turned from cloudy to a perfectly clear liquid as she added the ground cockroach. "Passable, Ms. Granger."

Malfoy seemed, as always, irritated at hearing Hermione's work 'praised', and momentarily lost concentration on what he was doing. He accidentally jarred his cauldron and splashed potion on Nott's book.

"Fuck," muttered Nott, under his breath, as he wiped up the spill.

Snape turned to him. "Five points from Slytherin, Nott," he said angrily, "and if I hear you using that language in my classroom again, it will be an immediate detention."

The class finished the task with mostly acceptable results. The four Ravenclaw girls had done a particularly good job, though not, of course, as perfect as Hermione's.

As the class left, he caught her eye. There was something about the twitch of her smile that he couldn't quite fathom. He got the distinct impression that she was up to something.

* * *

It was not until the end of classes that he was able to make a guess at what was on Hermione's mind. He had been in the hospital wing talking to Poppy Pomfrey about some supplies that she needed, and was heading back towards the dungeon as Hermione, Weasley and Potter came out of the Transfiguration classroom a little way ahead of him. He thought he saw Hermione glance his way then, just as he was about to sweep past them, the three books that she had been trying to force into her bag fell to the floor.

"Fuck," she muttered, loudly enough that he was sure he was intended to hear.

He stopped and turned to her, observing the surprised look on the faces of her friends. So, that was what her game was - putting him in a position where he was unable to pretend not to have heard her and would have to be seen to punish her. Well, if that was what she wanted ...

"My office, Ms. Granger," he spat. "Now!"

He strode away, knowing that she would follow, and knowing that his face showed no trace of the devilry in his mind. It was not something that he ever would have initiated, but if she wanted to play the naughty schoolgirl, what could he do but play along?

He reached the dungeon classroom and strode towards his desk, turning towards her as she caught up with him and stepped inside.

"Not a word, Ms. Granger," he snapped, before she had a chance to speak.

With a flick of his wand, he slammed and locked the door.

"Come here."

She stepped towards him, her eyes challenging. He had no difficulty meeting her gaze with a look of controlled anger.

"You know that I do not like to hear that kind of language," he snarled. "You may think that being the most gifted witch in the school allows you to flout school rules but that is not the case."

Calmly and deliberately, he reached down to unfasten the buttons of his trousers.

"There are consequences for breaking rules, and you need to learn that." He released himself from his trousers and boxer shorts, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "On your knees, Granger," he ordered.

She held his gaze defiantly for a moment, then sank to her knees in front of him. As she took him in her mouth, he felt the same warm bliss he felt every time they made love. The way that her lips held him and her tongue caressed every part of him, firmly and lovingly, made him want to moan her name. Her mouth was tight on him as she sucked, holding the base in her hands and stroking him in time with the movements of her head. He forced himself to stay still and silent, but savoured every touch - every movement. He met her eyes as she looked up at him and slid a hand to his balls. Despite the exquisite torture it caused him, he kept his face impassive and his eyes locked on hers as she brought him to climax and he spurted into her, watching her face as she swallowed. She made no move to release him, and he reluctantly pulled out of her, arranging himself back into his boxers and carefully buttoning up his trousers. Hermione stood, the look on her face still defiant. Insolent.

"That was … acceptable, Ms. Granger," he told her. "Now, don't let me catch you using language like that again."

He flicked his wand at the door, which unlocked and opened.

"Dismissed!"

Without a word, Hermione turned from him and walked out of the door.

* * *

"I've never even heard you swear before!" Ron told Hermione.

She shrugged and gave a half smile. "I don't, usually."

"And the one time you do is when Snape's walking by," Harry commented. "You have the worst timing, Hermione!"

"What did he say?" demanded Ron. "Was he really angry?"

"He told me that just because I was good at my work didn't mean that I was entitled to break school rules, and not to ever let him hear me use language like that again. And there was some slamming of doors and glaring."

"He didn't give you detention?" asked Harry.

Ron scoffed. "What would be the point? She would love it if teachers gave her extra work! She's probably heading back there after dinner to work on her project."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Actually, I'm meeting my boyfriend."

"Who is it?" asked Ron.

Hermione laughed and said nothing.

* * *

Snape stood when Hermione arrived in his classroom, abandoning his reading in an instant.

"Good evening, Professor," she said with a mischievous smile.

He allowed amusement to show on his face as he bent to give her a brief kiss, but his use of "Hermione" was deliberate and pointed.

They headed towards his rooms and she accepted the mulled mead that he poured for her.

"Hermione," he began, sitting opposite her, "what we did today was … fun … " He saw her smile at his use of the word that was not typically a part of his vocabulary. " ... but I don't intend to make a habit of it."

"This whole thing with the uniform and the schoolgirl image really bothers you, doesn't it?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "You are of age, Hermione, and you have an intelligence and maturity that is undeniable. I do not see you as a child, but I still feel guilt about the fact that you are a student. Teachers have authority over students, and the idea of taking advantage of that power imbalance for my own sexual gratification is abhorrent."

He paused, not wanting to speak of things that would be painful for her to hear, but refusing to avoid things that needed to be said. "I do not want to use force or coercion to make you do anything, even if we're just pretending. In the past I have forced women and girls to do terrible things, including what you did today. And worse."

"You've raped women?" Hermione's voice was quiet, and he knew that she already knew the answer to her question.

"Many times," he confirmed, softly.

"Girls?"

He nodded, refusing to allow himself to look away from her.

"It was never about sex. It was about power and control. I enjoyed today's charade because I knew that we both went into it willingly. I trusted you to stop if you felt uncomfortable with it at any time. Today was not about having control over you - it was about the wonderful feeling of your mouth on me, knowing that you wanted to do it. Knowing that you loved me."

Hermione moved to his chair and drew his head to her chest, wrapping her arms protectively around him. "I do love you, Severus," she whispered, "and I promise never to ask you to do that again. I'm sorry that it brought up all of this from your past."

Snape sighed, listening to the beating of her heart.

Suddenly she pulled away from him and he looked at her, puzzled. "I just remembered," she said. " 'Acceptable'? You gave me an A? I never get less than an E on anything!"

Snape smirked. "Of course. You needed to be punished."

She looked at him in surprise.

"Swearing," he explained. "I really don't like swearing."

* * *

 _There was blood on the muggle girl's lips from the blow that Snape had just inflicted. She cowered away from him, eyes down and sobbing._

" _I told you not to struggle," he told her, impassively. "Disobeying me will be repaid with pain."_

 _He pulled her towards him and this time she did not try to resist. He possessed her lips, enjoying the mingled taste of her blood and tears. His hand reached for her breasts, ripping her shirt off her shoulder and exposing soft skin, pale except for the blossoming bruises. She was just how he liked them - old enough to be physically mature with full breasts and a shapely figure, but still young. Still untouched. He liked to be the first to have them, to revel in their pain as he forced his way roughly into them and to absorb their screams with his mouth on theirs. Too often the others got them first - Malfoy, Yaxley, Lestrange - and by the time he got his pleasure they were broken. Not this one. She was his._

 _He ripped off the rest of her shirt, then pushed her down onto the thin mattress._

" _Look at me," he ordered. She glanced up at him in terror, then hid her face. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet, then slammed her into the cellar wall. He pressed his body against her back, pinning her and enjoying the feel of the sobs shaking her body. "When I tell you to look at me, you will do it," he breathed into her ear._

 _He threw her back down and she looked up at him, not daring to turn away. He savored the fear in her eyes and the blood still trickling from her lip. Slowly he removed his robes and let them fall to the stone floor, alongside the tattered remnants of her shirt and tie. The rest of her school uniform would soon join them._

* * *

Snape vomited.

He half staggered, half fell out of his bed and made a grab for the cupboard. He didn't make it and collapsed on the floor, weeping in anguish. By the time he finally managed to reach the calming draught he was shaking too much to open the bottle. He reached for his wand and on the second try managed to remove the lid. Desperately, he gulped a mouthful down and waited to feel the relief he needed.

It felt like hours before he was calm enough to vanish the vomit from the floor and crawl, exhausted, back into his bed. It's emptiness was his one consolation - knowing that Hermione did not have to witness it this time.


	15. Halloween

**Chapter 15 - Halloween**

The search for the lost tunnels was not going well. Hermione had been on several of the forays into the deeper parts of the dungeon with Ron and Harry, but not all, and they seemed to be getting nowhere.

Harry had found a different spell for revealing hidden magic, and Hermione had helped them to learn it. They were eager to try it, but with essays for three different subjects due before Halloween, their time had been limited.

"Well, at least that means we can enjoy the Halloween feast more, if all our homework is out of the way," Hermione told them.

Ron snorted. "You always manage to find a way to be cheerful about getting your homework done," he said. "But at least this means we'll have some free time after Halloween, to keep exploring. We'll go the night after Halloween."

"I've already told Professor Snape that I'll be working on my project that night," Hermione told them, "but if you're going the night after, count me in!" She was a little disappointed, but it was all her own fault, she told herself, that she felt a little isolated from them. An evening spent sneaking around the castle under cover of Harry's cloak would be just like it always had been.

With the Halloween Feast approaching, and adventures with her friends planned, not to mention the night after Halloween with Severus, she had some fun nights to look forward to. She couldn't wait.

* * *

Halloween was a wonderful event at Hogwarts. Back in her 'muggle' days, Hermione had always enjoyed the images of bats, ghosts, ghouls and goblins at this time of year, but it had been a world apart from the place where these things were real.

Hagrid's pumpkins were every bit as fantastic as he had promised, carved with intricate moving faces and scenes, and filled with candles that cast flickering shadows around the Great Hall.

As always, the food was spectacular, appearing onto the wonderfully decorated tables amongst pumpkins and candles. A group of first-years were sitting a few feet down the table, and she smiled at a rather nervous- looking boy, who had found himself trapped in conversation with a talking skull that was perched in the center of the table, containing a black candle. He smiled back timidly, then blushed a deep red and looked away. She thought back to her first Halloween at Hogwarts and shuddered, remembering the Mountain Troll in the bathroom - it certainly seemed to be a night for strange events!

The entertainment from the ghosts at Halloween was always very enjoyable, and this year was no exception. They had surpassed themselves by writing a play entitled "All's Well that Died Well", which they presented after dinner. It had an intricate plot, which somehow managed to encompass the death scenes of almost every ghost in the room, with the notable exception of the Bloody Baron, whose life, death and bloodstained appearance were still a mystery to all. The play received a marvelous round of applause, and the ghosts celebrated with a circuit of the hall, mischievously chilling the younger pupils by flying through them.

Dumbledore stood at the end of the play, clapping loudly, and thanked the playwrights and actors. He then announced that the staff had a special surprise for the students. "We have decided to break with tradition this year (after all, what are traditions for, if not for breaking?), and end the Halloween festivities with a dance!"

At that, a door at the side of the hall opened and a group of - well, Hermione assumed they must be musicians - entered. They appeared to have been human at some point in their past, but were now skeletons with flesh hanging loosely from them. It was not a pleasant sight. Dumbledore's cheerful "I would like to introduce our band for this evening - 'Dead, Not Buried', " was met with dubious applause, but when they started to play, everyone warmed to them fairly quickly. Their music more than made up for their grotesque appearance.

Everyone seemed to think the dance was a wonderful idea - especially the fact that it was a surprise - it saved everyone the problem of having to have a partner for the evening, much to Ron's clear relief. As the tables magically moved to the sides of the room, Hermione glanced up at the staff. Snape was engaged in conversation with Professor Flitwick, and she couldn't see his face clearly. She smiled to herself, doubting that he would appreciate this change in the entertainment - he wasn't exactly the dancing type!

It was Dumbledore who opened the dancing, with Professor McGonagall, but after a little while, the other staff and students joined in and the Great Hall was filled with swirling couples. Ron and Harry swept off to find partners, and Hermione was approached, a little nervously, by Neville.

Thankfully, his dancing had improved somewhat since the fourth-year's Yule Ball, and he didn't tread on her feet more than half a dozen times. Hermione looked around as they danced. Harry and Ginny looked like a very sweet couple, and seemed to be dancing together rather closely, while Ron was being steered round the dance floor by Parvati Patil. She again looked towards Severus, but was surprised not to be able to see him at the edges of the hall. She eventually found him in the one place she didn't expect - on the dance floor with Professor Sprout.

Other people were obviously surprised by this as well, and both Ron and Harry commented on it between dances. "At least he's not smiling," muttered Ron. "Then I really would be worried!"

Hermione was asked to dance by a lot of boys that night, and was never without a partner. Alistair Baddock asked her to dance twice, which she accepted, both braving the sneers from Draco Malfoy and his cronies. Alistair was a quietly spoken Slytherin, and rather shy - both unusual characteristics for that house - and she enjoyed dancing with him. She also danced with Oliver Rivers, Stephen Cornfoot, Harry and Ron, although Harry seemed in rather a hurry to get back to Ginny.

With a smile, Hermione noticed that some of the staff were happy to dance with the students. Professor Sprout was dancing with a tall fifth-year Hufflepuff, and Madam Hooch asked both Ron and Harry during the evening. By far the most amusing couple of the evening was McGonagall and Dennis Creevey, although Hermione thought that she and Hagrid probably looked just as funny. The unexpected turn of events was very pleasing to Hermione, as it meant that she would be able to dance with Severus and, judging from his expression as he glanced at her while dancing past with Professor McGonagall, he was thinking the same thing.

She saw him dance with Parvati Patil, then Millicent Bulstrode, Professor Trelawney, and two Slytherin girls that she did not know. At some point he would come for her, she knew.

It seemed that he wanted to tease her first, though. She had sat down for a few minutes, to catch her breath after a dance with Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, and was chatting happily with Ginny about the merits of Harry's dancing, when the tall figure of the Potions Master loomed over them. He was carefully keeping his face expressionless as he towered over the two sitting girls. He nodded to them and spoke. "Would you care to dance, Ms. Weasley?"

Ginny managed to hide her nervousness very well, thought Hermione, as she stammered a quiet, "Thank you, Professor Snape," and he led her out to the floor. Laughing inwardly, Hermione approached Professor Flitwick, and the two couples were soon dancing next to each other in the middle of the hall.

The tap on her shoulder was what she had been waiting for, and she turned to face the man she loved. "Ms Granger, may I have this dance?"

She smiled, carefully avoiding letting her face give too much away. "I would love to, Professor."

It was exquisite torment. To be so close, but not be able to hold him next to her made her ache. And yet, there was something exciting about it too - to feel his presence to smell his skin, but to know that no-one else was aware of what was between them. Why am I torturing myself like this, she wondered? They talked quietly as they danced, careful not to look like they were enjoying the dance too much. All reserve and civility, as far as anyone else was concerned - the passion concealed in Severus' dark eyes was for her alone to see.

"You look beautiful," he told her softly. "I couldn't resist wanting to dance with you."

She squeezed his hand and told him how surprised everyone, including herself, was to see him dancing so much.

"Well," he replied, "I could hardly ask only you. I had to dance with other people or it would look suspicious."

This had been her thought, exactly. "I know," she told him. "That's partly why I wanted to dance with so many people. I've even been dancing with one of the dreaded Slytherins."

"Twice," he muttered. Hermione might have worried at the sharpness of his voice, but she knew it well enough now to recognize the teasing in his tone. "Baddock! I never did like that boy!" His hand was on her waist and she felt his fingers surreptitiously caressing her as he changed the subject. "It's all I can manage not to pull you close and kiss you right now."

A tantalizing thought came to her. "Well, at some point, we will have to let people know about us," she said. "That would certainly be an interesting way to do it!"

There was a smile at the corners of his lips. "I never knew you had such a flair for the dramatic," he said. "But I think that this becoming public knowledge right now would be unwise. Unless you wanted to get me fired."

"Don't worry," she said. "I know that this needs to stay between us for a long time."

He gazed over he shoulder, not wanting to give anything away by his looks, but his voice was serious. "At some time in the future, Hermione, we will be able to dance together and I will be able to show the world how much I love you. We will walk together, holding hands, and everyone will be able to know how we feel."

"I look forward to that, Severus," she whispered.

Then they danced in silence.

Hermione wanted very much to go to his room that night, but the castle would be alive much later than usual, and it would be difficult to get there without being seen. As the music died, she said quickly, "I'll come down to the dungeon tomorrow night after dinner. I need to work on my project for a little while, but later - how about another dance?"

He nodded politely to her, as he had with his other partners. "Good night, Ms. Granger."

* * *

"So, is one of the boys you danced with your boyfriend?" Ron asked Hermione, on the way to the Gryffindor common room that night.

Hermione sighed. "I'm not going to tell you that, Ron," she said. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."

"You danced with a lot of girls, Ron," said Harry with a smile. "Maybe we should be asking about who your girlfriend is."

"Nah," said Ron. "I'd rather just be free to play the field."

Hermione smirked. "I think there's something you're not telling us. I think the only one of us who was able to dance half the night with the love of their life was Harry."

Harry blushed. "I really like her," he said softly.

Ron put his fingers in his ears and began to hum.

Harry and Hermione laughed. "Something tells me he doesn't want to hear how you feel about his sister," giggled Hermione.

She pulled Ron's hand away from his ear. "It's okay, Ron, you can listen again."

"Can we go back to talking about your love life, instead of my sister's?"

Hermione laughed and headed upstairs to her room.

"Goodnight!" she called.

* * *

In the Great Hall, Dumbledore watched the last of the students heading back to their dormitories. The band were packing up, the last few teachers were chatting and leaving, and the house elves were beginning to clean up.

"Good night, Headmaster," called Professor Sprout as she headed for the door.

Dumbledore responded with a cheerful 'good night', then returned to his deep thought. He had a lot to think about.


	16. Flying Fists and Bottles

**Chapter 16 - Flying Fists and Bottles**

It was the night after Halloween and, as planned, Harry and Ron were continuing their search for the mysterious passage to the lake. Straight after dinner, they had slipped into an empty classroom, wrapped Harry's invisibility cloak about them and set off for the dungeon. Hermione was also heading to the dungeon to work on her project, but they felt it safer for them not to be seen heading that way.

The deepest level of the dungeon that they were aware of was cold and dank, and their footsteps echoed around the empty chambers. Starting from the place where, four years earlier, the three friends had been the only living guests at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party, they had already begun systematically to explore the doors and passageways leading outwards.

Rather - as systematically as was possible. The passages were extremely confusing, and they began to look the same in the dark. They would try a passageway, only to find that they had already been there, or think that they recognized a place, but then find it turning into a dead end that they were sure shouldn't be there.

"Maybe the rooms down here move around, like they do upstairs," suggested Ron. "Did we try this way, already?"

The entrance to a tunnel could be anywhere - behind a picture, part of a statue (not that there were many of either of these down there), even part of a seemingly blank wall. Using the vague hints from their research, the entrance could have some clue with it that would connect it to the lake - a carving or symbol indicating the lake or the merpeople, or maybe the giant squid. But if a symbol existed, they had seen no sign of it so far. In every passage, at every dead end, at every place where they felt a tunnel might be possible, they used their newly-learned charm to search for hidden magic

They had been searching for about an hour, when they found themselves wondering whether they had seen this section of the passages before. There was a tall suit of armor standing in deep shadows, which Ron was sure they had already passed. They retraced their steps, but the way back did not seem familiar.

"Let's try this way," said Harry, leading Ron down a side passage that he seemed to remember. It was not one they had been down before, though, which they realized as they came into a wider passage with pictures down one side. Harry held up his wand, so that the glow from its tip would light the pictures more clearly. They were not pleasant scenes. A tall woman with an unnaturally long neck stared down at them from the first frame. A limp chicken hung from her hand, and she was plucking it with a vengeance. Further down the passage, a fat boy of around ten or twelve years old (looking surprisingly like Dudley) was jeeringly forcing his terrified younger sister into a closet. None of the pictures showed welcoming places or friendly faces, but the one that shocked them most was the one at the end of the corridor, just before a large wooden door.

It was a portrait of a well-dressed man, sitting comfortably in a large armchair in an elaborately furnished room. A warm red glow from the fire lit his face, and two black dogs slept at his feet. It would have been a pleasant scene, if not for the fact that the face staring out at them was that of the living and unbloodied, but otherwise perfectly recognizable Bloody Baron.

Ron clutched at Harry's arm. "Let's get out of here," he whispered. Harry agreed, but before either of them could turn around, the ghost of the man in the picture emerged silently from behind the door in front of them. They had removed the invisibility cloak as soon as they had got down to this level of the dungeon, thinking that there was no-one to see them anyway, so the ghost spotted them immediately. For a few terrible seconds, none of them moved, then Harry, finally coming to his senses, grabbed Ron's arm and they fled. They had always assumed that the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts were relatively harmless - Dumbledore would surely not put the students in danger - but they had no intention of putting this assumption to the test when faced with the Slytherin Ghost in the castle's deepest dungeons.

With no idea where they were going, they ran, not caring whether the ghost was behind them or not. They twisted and turned, up and down passages, through doorways, across halls, until, finally they reached something that they recognized. It was the Deathday party hall. They knew the way from here, and dashed across it, heading for the main castle with relief. It was only when they got close to the more inhabited parts of the dungeon, near to the Slytherin house, that they stopped to get their breath.

"I think we should call it a night," gasped Harry, and Ron nodded wholeheartedly. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak from under his robes and they slipped it around them before moving on.

As they reached the bottom of the steps, they encountered further problems. Footsteps were coming down them, and they could hear the unmistakable voice of Filch, muttering under his breath about students who showed no consideration for others. Silently, they backed away, to give him space to pass before continuing back to Gryffindor, but he continued heading towards them. They had to back further, and found themselves in the corridor leading to the Potions classroom. The door was open slightly, and there was light showing round it. Filch was still approaching and, under cover of the cloak, Harry and Ron slipped through the crack and into the classroom.

Hermione was standing with her back to them, poring studiously over her work, but she appeared to be alone. Not wanting Filch to hear them, they waited in silence, wondering if the caretaker was still heading their way, but he turned into another passage before reaching the door. Ron and Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned towards Hermione. Harry started to pull off the invisibility cloak and was about to speak, but Ron nudged him silent and pulled the cloak back over them both. There was another figure moving in the passageway outside. Filch? No - it was Snape. If he found them here, especially after their previous late night visit to the dungeon, they would have another detention to look forward to, and likely something far worse than the last time, knowing Snape.

For a moment, Harry considered trying to slip through the doorway before the Potions Master reached it, but there wasn't time. Carefully avoiding making any sound, he backed Ron away from the doorway. They would just have to wait for him to pass through, then slip out behind him.

They quickly realized that this would not work. Snape's movements were silent as he stepped through the door, and he stopped when he saw Hermione. She had not heard him, and he stood watching her from the doorway. What was he up to, wondered Harry? Without a sound, Snape moved fully into the classroom and closed the door behind him. Hermione was still completely engrossed in her work, but Harry felt a jolt of shock as he watched the teacher actually lock the door. He held his breath and noticed that Ron, beside him, was doing the same. Both watched tensely as Snape leaned back against the doorway, never taking his eyes off Hermione, and with his head tilted slightly to the side, as though studying her. Harry was beginning to feel sick as he watched a cruel smile curl around Snape's lips.

Slowly and silently, the teacher moved towards her, and Harry took a step forward, too. He was still covered by the cloak, but only just, and he no longer cared. He did not like the look on Snape's face one little bit. One step closer, Snape, he thought, watching the man's smile grow more malicious. Hermione was reaching for a bottle next to the cauldron, and remained oblivious to the danger behind her.

Harry seemed to see the next few moments in slow motion, as he saw Snape close the distance between himself and Hermione. With a self-assured ease, he grabbed her by her shoulders and spun her around. She let out a sharp gasp of surprise as his lips closed on hers, and he pulled her to him.

In a flash, Harry threw off the invisibility cloak and hurled himself at the teacher.

"Get away from her, Snape," he screamed, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice. Grabbing the man roughly by the shoulders, he dragged him off his prey and threw him against the ingredients cabinet. Snape was shocked and winded, and in the moment it took him to recover, Harry was upon him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he heard Hermione's shouting voice, but her words did not register. His swinging fist caught Snape's face with a thud, and there was a loud crack as the man's head hit the cabinet. He was about to take another swing, but Snape did not give him the chance. Leaping forward, he blocked the punch and grabbed Harry's arm in a powerful grip, twisting the wrist until Harry thought it would break.

Something inside Harry was driving him onward. This hated teacher, who had done everything he could to make his life hell for the past five years, had now gone one step too far in daring to force himself on Hermione. Ignoring the pain in his wrist, he swung the other fist at Snape's detested face. An instant later, a pain exploded in Harry's eye, as he felt the man's arm across his face. He spun around, taking both of them off balance, and careening into the cabinet, knocking it sideways. It balanced precariously for a moment, then smashed down with a crash. Snape's weight was on top of him as they landed, and he was pinned, unable to move, with the enraged face of his enemy snarling down at him.

It was only then that Harry really seemed to hear Hermione's voice. "Harry! Severus! Stop it!" Glancing for a moment past Snape's angry face, he saw that she had blocked Ron's path as he had tried to jump into the fight, grabbing his arms to hold him back. Now she was running forward to the pair on the floor and crouching next to them, placing a hand on the chest of each, pushing them apart.

Snape's weight was lifted from him, and Hermione and Ron were helping Harry to his feet.

"Harry, are you alright?" she was asking him, reaching up to his eye, which was burning with pain. Nodding numbly, he placed a hand on Ron's shoulder to steady himself. Ron was staring in disbelief at Hermione, and Harry followed his gaze. Hermione had rushed to Snape and was touching his cheek. He watched as her fingers pushed his long black hair out of his face.

"You don't need to feel sorry for him, Hermione, after what he - - - " His voice trailed off as the truth suddenly hit him, far harder than Snape had done.

Her hand was resting on his chest. "Severus, you're hurt!" she said with concern.

Harry felt his knees begin to crumple, and he steadied himself on the edge of a desk. How could this be happening? This simply couldn't be real. The 'boyfriend' that Hermione had been sneaking off to see for the past month was Professor Snape!

* * *

Hermione had so many emotions going through her that she barely knew what to think or say. The people in this room with her were three of the most important people in her life. Apart from her parents, there was no-one that she could love more. And yet, everything was in such a mess for all of them. Severus did not seem too badly hurt, but there was a cut at his temple, blood running from his nose, and she was worried about the way his head had hit the cabinet. His breathing beside her was heavy, as he glared at Harry, controlling himself only for her benefit. Harry's eye was swollen and bloody, and would probably turn black very quickly.

But the worst injuries were those done to Ron and Harry by finding out this way. Both looked horrified at what they had seen, and were staring, open-mouthed as she turned to face them.

"Hermione," it was Ron who was the first to confront her about the truth, "is this who you've been seeing?" The hurt and confusion in his eyes were painful to her.

She took a deep breath. "Yes. We've been seeing each other for about a month." Saying it quickly didn't make it any easier.

"And you didn't tell us?" Harry had been staring at the floor, but the anger in his voice was matched by that in his eyes as he suddenly looked up at her.

The reaction was to be expected, she supposed, but it hurt, nonetheless. "I hated not telling you," she whispered, feeling tears begin to sting the back of her eyes.

Ron was staring at Snape, as though the very sight of him made him sick. "We were worried about you," he said, speaking to Hermione, but his gaze not leaving the teacher. "We knew you were up to something, but..."

Harry interrupted him " -...but we had no idea about how much you were lying to us!" he snapped, bitterly. He was still leaning on the edge of the desk, mirroring Snape's posture, as though they were facing each other off in a challenge. And so they still were - if not in physical combat. Hermione could see the white of his knuckles as he gripped the desk, and, nervously, she noted the same thing in the man beside her. The air was thick with tension, and she knew that she had to get the three of them apart before things got worse. Part of her told herself that they needed to talk about what had happened and clear the air a little, but what good was that if they ended up fighting again?

She moved between Severus and Harry, trying, somehow, to dampen the explosive reaction between them. Harry scowled as she stepped towards him, but she ignored it. "We should go to the infirmary," she said firmly. "Your eye needs treatment." Harry showed no inclination to move. She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled it away.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

Again, the sting of tears, but she held them back. "Harry," she pleaded, but faltered, not knowing what else to say.

Ron finally dragged his gaze away from Snape to help her. "Yeah, Harry," he muttered. "Let's go."

Harry slowly stood, and for a moment, Hermione thought he was going to lunge for Severus again. The hatred in his expression was clear as he stared angrily at him. Snape's unblinking eyes returned the emotion, and the lock was only broken when Hermione once again stepped between them.

Steering Harry out of the door, with Ron, Hermione turned back to Snape and gave him a small smile. "I'll be back soon," she whispered. He gave her a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement, but his focus was still on Harry as he was ushered out of the room.

Hermione paused in the doorway, looking back at him. The anger boiling inside him was frightening, and the fact that he had not said a word since the fight scared her, but she knew she could not leave Harry for the moment. She would hurry back.

* * *

Snape fought to calm himself as Hermione's hand reached up to touch his cheek, brushing the hair out of his eyes. The blow to his head on the cabinet had been quite something - more than he would have thought Potter capable of.

He felt a smug satisfaction as Potter faltered in his words to Hermione. The two boys were staring at them, dumbfounded, as Hermione stood with her hand resting on his chest. "Severus, you're hurt." Her voice was full of concern and, in spite of everything that was going on, he felt a brief flutter in his chest at seeing the love in her eyes.

But the fury inside him was forcing all other emotions out of his mind. He forced it under control and stared, unblinking, at Potter.

They were talking - Hermione, Potter and Weasley - but he was not listening to the words. Dimly, he was aware of the hatred focused on him by the two boys, and then of Hermione's voice, urging them to the infirmary. Yes - that was the best thing - get them out of here!

Hermione was leaving, and his stomach twisted as he saw her go, but just this once, his yearning for her was tempered with relief. The anger was on the point of surfacing, and he did not want her anywhere near him. She had seen enough of the darker side of him. He couldn't make her deal with that - especially when his anger was directed against the two people whom he knew she loved so dearly.

They were gone. He was alone.

For a full ten minutes, he did not move. The silence around him seemed to freeze his being, and he could neither think nor feel anything.

When he finally moved, his actions surprised even himself. In a sudden burst of rage, he grasped the nearest thing to hand - a large bottle from the workbench where Hermione had been working - and spun around, hurling it at the far wall of the classroom.

It was an indescribable feeling - the hatred and rage burning him, with no power to control them. And yet, the image that he saw in his mind was not that of Potter's face, as he would have expected. Instead, he saw the images that came to him in his nightmares - himself as a cruel, evil monster, enjoying the suffering of others, reveling in their pain.

That was where his rage lay - at the fact that, although Potter had misunderstood the situation when he had grabbed Hermione in lustful play, the boy's hatred was totally justified. Not for what he had done tonight, but what did that matter? He was blessed that Hermione chose to see beyond what he had been, but he had no right to expect forgiveness from anyone else. Potter had every right to hate him.

But still - he couldn't help but despise the boy. Everything about him reminded him of his father. As though emphasizing this, his gaze fell on the hazy shape of the invisibility cloak, still on the floor where it had been cast aside. A fresh wave of anger swelled in him, and he reached for another unbroken bottle, hurling it with all his strength in the direction that the three students had just left.

It hit the stone a little above the doorway, just as Albus Dumbledore stepped into the classroom. Only the headmaster's quick reactions with a shield charm prevented him from being hit with dripping liquid and flying shards of glass.


	17. Fuming Friends

**Chapter 17 - Fuming Friends**

The walk from the dungeon to the hospital wing seemed long as Hermione hurried to keep pace with Ron and Harry.

None of them said anything until they were more than half way there, but suddenly Ron stopped and rounded on her, angrily.

"How could you do this, Hermione?" he demanded. "It's Snape, of all people. Snape!"

She stopped and looked around, checking that the corridor was empty. "It wasn't exactly planned, Ron!" she fumed. "I didn't just wake up one morning and think 'Maybe I should start a relationship with Snape'!"

"But … how could you not tell us?" his face was beginning to match the colour of his flaming hair. "I thought we told each other everything!"

Her anger crumpled at his words. He was absolutely right, and it hurt. "I hated not telling you," she said, desperately hoping that they would find a way to understand, "but I didn't want to … complicate things … until I knew how I felt."

Harry was a few paces ahead of them, but he spun round at her words, and the fury in his eyes was clear. "And how do you feel?" he demanded.

"I love Severus," she said, without needing to think about it. She knew that maybe it was not the best time to tell them this, but she couldn't hide it from them - not now. "I don't know why, but I love him."

They stared.

"But he's ... he's a teacher," Ron spluttered. "And he's Snape! You've always hated him just as much as we do. Or have you been lying about this for longer than we thought?"

Tears finally began to pour down Hermione's cheeks. "I did hate him, I think," she began, trying to explain it to herself as much as to them, "but I've always - respected him, too!" She wasn't sure if she was making any sense to them but she continued anyway. "There's something about him that I can understand and relate to. And he seems to understand me! We can talk for hours about magic and potions and books - anything."

"Are you sleeping with him?" Harry's question shocked her in its forthrightness, but she couldn't bring herself to match it.

"That's my business," she said softly.

He gazed at her, levelly, for a long moment, then turned and continued towards the hospital wing.

If there was one person at Hogwarts whom students could trust not to ask awkward questions, it was Madam Pomfrey. There were few students in the school who had not made a mess of an 'experimental' spell or potion at some point or other, and Madam Pomfrey knew that requiring an explanation would make them more likely to try to fix things themselves. Hermione was not in the least surprised, therefore, when Harry's simple "I had an accident" was accepted with no hint of either belief or disbelief.

Hermione allowed herself a moment of relief at Harry's weak explanation. She had half expected him to tell the matron everything. Ron's look told her that he had been thinking the same thing. Maybe she - or rather, Severus - would not have been so lucky if it had been the other boy with the injuries.

Forcing her attention back to Harry, she listed to Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis.

"The wrist isn't broken," she was saying, almost to herself, "but there's some nasty bruising there. The same for your knuckles." She released Harry's arm and turned her attention to his face. "Now let me take a look at that eye!"

Harry winced as he turned his face towards her so she could see him clearly in the light. His eye was now almost closed with the swelling. A crust of blood had formed just under it, where the skin had broken, and the whole area was darkly bruised.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Well, I can clean up the wrist and the blood, but the best thing for the eye is to leave it to sort itself out." She turned towards her office, still speaking. "A cold press will have the swelling down in no time, and the bruising will heal quickly."

She returned quickly with a cold package, which Harry pressed to his eye, then she quickly fixed up his other injuries with a few well-practiced flicks of her wand. He flexed his wrist and fingers. The bruising had gone, and he seemed to feel nothing, and the cut from his face disappeared completely. Only his bruised and swollen eye showed any sign of the fight, unless she counted the scowl on his face.

Madam Pomfrey insisted that Harry wait in the hospital wing for at least half an hour, so she could check how the swelling was doing, and, as the matron disappeared into her office, closing the door behind her, Hermione braced herself for the new barrage of anger that she knew would be directed her way.

"How could you lie to us, Hermione?" It was Ron that started the new onslaught, turning to her as soon as the witch was out of the room. "After all we've been through!"

Hermione was torn between pain and anger.

"Ron, I never wanted to have to lie to you," she hissed, "but how could I have told you the truth? Look at how you're reacting. If I'd told you the truth from the start, do you think you would have been more accepting? It's not the lying that you're so bothered about; it's the fact that it's Severus!"

" _Severus!"_ Ron muttered, bitterly.

She was about to retort, but Harry interrupted. "If anyone finds out, you'll be expelled, and Snape'll be fired," he stated. Hermione didn't want to think about either of those possibilities. He continued, hotly. "What if Dumbledore catches you? Or you get pregnant? Or the rest of the school finds out?

Tears were once again running down her face. "I don't know," she cried "I told you we didn't plan any of this - it just happened."

They said nothing, and she found this to be almost as bad as the angry shouting.

She took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down. There was no point in trying to talk to them about this now. It was late, and they were all overwrought. "Look," she said as steadily as she could, "let's talk about this tomorrow. We might have all calmed down a bit after some sleep."

It sounded weak, but there was nothing else she could say. Nothing was going to make them forgive her, the way they were feeling now, so it was better to give them some space. She headed for the door, but as she reached it, she turned. "I know that you are both angry with me," she said, trying to keep her voice calm, "but I just wanted to say thanks for what you both did, when you thought I was in danger. It means a lot to me." They said nothing, and she turned and left.

* * *

Snape froze as he saw Dumbledore stepping quietly into the classroom, then he turned and faced away, not wanting to make eye contact. The headmaster's voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "Well, Severus, it seems that things are rather a mess." No reply seemed to be appropriate, so the words were met with silence, and he carried on. "I saw Mr. Potter on his way to see Poppy. I had a suspicion - now unhappily confirmed - that you might have injuries to match his."

The presence of the older wizard seemed to be having a calming effect on Snape. There was no longer any doubt that Dumbledore knew about Hermione and himself, and the knowledge was almost soothing. Whatever the outcome of this would be, there was now no avoiding it - no choice but to accept the consequences of what had been going on.

Anger seemed to be slowly draining from him and he felt empty without it, as though it had been the only thing keeping him on his feet. Silently, he moved to his desk and sat behind it, before looking up at the headmaster.

He kept his eyes and voice impassive. "What can I say, Albus?" he asked flatly.

Dumbledore crossed the room to sit opposite him. "Tell me what happened," he said simply.

Snape sighed, wondering how far back to go, but he eventually settled on just the events of the night. "I came in here while Hermione was working. She didn't hear me, so I crept up behind her to surprise her. Potter and Weasley were here under James' cloak … and Potter jumped me. He thought I was ..."

"I see." Dumbledore thought quietly for a moment before continuing. "Until Halloween, I suspected this, but I wasn't certain. I thought maybe it was one of the boys in Slytherin, and that you were covering for them. Then I saw you dance together."

This was surprising. He had thought that their dance had been beyond suspicion. As though reading his mind, Dumbledore said quickly, "I don't think anyone else could see it, but I know your face, Severus. I've never seen you like this, before, but I knew from your eyes."

"I'm in love with her, Albus." The words came out quickly and unexpectedly, but Snape was glad. It was the truth, and he wanted to be able to say it. "I'm in love with her."

Again, the pause, and then, "And Miss Granger? Does she feel the same way about you?"

The answer came without hesitation or doubt, "Yes, she does."

Dumbledore stood and surveyed the room. The ingredients cabinet, usually stocked so carefully and neatly by the fastidious professor, lay on its side. The frame was cracked and warped, and the contents smashed on the stone floor. The broken shards of glass at the back of the room, and the thick liquid running down the wall, showed evidence that the bottle that had narrowly missed his head was not the first to have been thrown.

Snape returned the gaze unemotionally, as the headmaster studied his face, then turned away again, shaking his head. Dumbledore began to pace, and the Potions Master waited in silence. "You've put me in a very awkward position, Severus," he said finally. "I should fire you. I have no doubt about that."

"She _is_ of age."

"It is not a question of age, Severus," snapped the headmaster, "and you know it. You are her teacher. Relationships … healthy relationships … are based on equality. A relationship cannot be consensual if one person has authority over the other."

Severus' anger boiled up inside him at these words. "Do you think I could ever love someone I did not consider my equal? Hermione knows her own mind. If you think I have used undue influence over her, as her teacher, then fire me," the voice was cold. "I wouldn't want to feel that I was here only because of loyalty or friendship."

There was anger in Dumbledore's voice as he spoke, "That's not it," he said. "I know how strong she is. If this were anyone but Miss Granger, the decision would have been made, and we wouldn't be having this conversation.

"Miss Granger is - different from the other students. She has a level of maturity that I don't recall seeing in one so young for many years, and her magic could challenge many fully trained witches and wizards. Any other girl, and I might have assumed a childish crush on a teacher, or a susceptible mind, easily led. But Miss Granger would not be swayed unless her feelings were real, and I have to accept that. With the respect that I have for her, I would be doing her a great injustice to presume anything else." He stopped pacing, and turned to the man behind the desk. The anger was muted, but unmistakable now. "But that doesn't mean that I have to like it, Severus! You should have controlled yourself. You both should!"

"Hermione has done nothing wrong," Severus said, his voice dangerously soft.

"If I am to consider Miss Granger as an adult capable of making her own decisions, then she must also be held accountable for those decisions. Or are you saying she is a child, not able to make her own choices? You cannot have it both ways."

Severus felt his anger defeated. "You are right, Albus. We should have controlled ourselves, but I promise you, we tried."

The sound of the door creaking open in the silence made them both turn.

"Severus … ," Hermione stopped as she saw Dumbledore. She was about to make an excuse, but saw her lover's hand reach out to her, and she moved across the room to take it. Clearly, the headmaster knew, and there was no need for pretense.

"Professor Snape ... Severus ... and I were just having a chat, Miss Granger," his voice was kind and soft, although she had the distinct impression that their 'chat' had been far from it. "I understand that you are in love."

This statement came as quite a surprise to her, coming from Dumbledore - how much detail had this chat gone into, exactly, she wondered - but she smiled at it. Taking Severus' hand as she reached his desk, she brought it up to her lips and kissed the knuckles. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore. Very much."

He seemed resigned to this, but clearly had to say his piece. "I will be honest with you, Miss Granger - I have serious concerns about this. You may be of age, but you are still a student."

"Severus and I always behave appropriately in class, Professor," she said, "and if you're worried that our relationship will affect his objectivity about my work …"

Dumbledore almost smiled at this, and brushed the idea away with a wave of his hand. "I hardly think that your steady stream of 'Outstandings' will change," he agreed. "No, Miss Granger, I consider you to be mature enough to make your own decisions." His eyes were firmly fixed on hers. "As I told you before, I cannot approve, but," he sighed, "I will not, for the time being, interfere."

He gazed at the pair of them for a moment longer, then turned towards the door. Before leaving, he stopped. "I must warn you both that if this becomes public knowledge, I may have no choice but to change my position on this subject," he said softly. "I bid you both goodnight," and he was gone.

Severus' head slumped forward as he sat behind his desk. Hermione reached out to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and drew his trembling body against her chest.


	18. The Rose

**Chapter 18 - The Rose**

Hermione half smiled to herself as she held Severus in her arms. She still stood next to his chair, her chin resting on the top of the head that was bent to lean against her. It should have seemed strange to her, she thought, that she was in the role of comforter and protector, but, somehow, it seemed natural. For all his strength and his turbulent past, there was vulnerability about him when he was forced to confront his emotions, instead of hiding them behind a stone façade.

She ran her fingers through his long hair, stroking his head, but stopped as she felt the dried blood matting in his hair. Pushing him gently away from her, she moved to examine the damage more closely.

"This is a deep cut, Severus," she told him softly. "It should be looked after." He said nothing, and she moved round to look at his face. There was still a little blood where it had run from his nose, and the area under his left eye was darkening. "We should get you to Madam Pomfrey - or ask her to come here." She added the latter suggestion, realizing that Harry and Ron may still be in the hospital wing.

Snape was not impressed by this idea, and his impatience showed in is voice. "Poppy Pomfrey is discreet, Hermione, not stupid." He was right, of course, although she was surprised at how long it seemed since she had heard that tone from him. He continued, "I'll just have to deal with this myself."

But healing his own injuries was not easy. In the end, Hermione carried out the appropriate spells, guided by the patient, finding out about yet another facet of the man's knowledge. The result would not be perfect - Hermione had little practical experience with this, usually relying on the school's matron - but it was enough to prevent permanent damage, and to remove most of the bruising and pain.

As he felt the back of his head to be sure the cut was sealed, she brought up the subject of Dumbledore, asking about the conversation before she had arrived. He grimaced as he told her of the headmaster's anger, and his statement that if it had been anyone other than Hermione, he would have been fired, regardless of Dumbledore's friendship towards him. That friendship had clearly reached its limit and come close to breaking.

"He was serious, you know," he frowned gravely, "about not letting other people find out. Whatever else he cares about in this world, Hogwarts and its students come first. As it should be."

Hermione stretched her arms about him, concerned at the anxiety and strain shown in his every movement and word. "Then we'll just have to be careful," she said. "A lot more careful than we've been so far!"

"Agreed," he said. "What did Potter and Weasley have to say?" he asked her.

She sighed. From the feeling of tension in him, she didn't think that this was the best time to discuss this, but there was no point in avoiding it. His face became more taut as she repeated their words about her lies to them, and told him about their anger and feelings of betrayal. He stood, and began to pace the room, listening to her description of their conversation. The thing that worried her most was the way that his hostility seemed to be directed, not at the fact that her friends were angry with her, but at the mere mention of Harry's name.

"What was he doing here, anyway?" he demanded, surprising her with the force behind his words.

She had not had chance to ask them this, and she was as much in the dark as he. "I don't know, Severus," she told him.

"Sneaking around late at night under that infernal invisibility cloak!" His voice was bitter. "The two of them should learn to mind their own damned business!"

Resolutely, she stood up. She had to stop this. Whatever was going on with his emotions, she couldn't deal with it right now, and neither, from the looks of things, could he. She had seen the mess in the classroom, knowing that not all of it had been caused during the fight. Something told her that Dumbledore had not been the one throwing bottles!

He was still pacing, and she moved to intercept him, standing firmly in his path. "Severus!" she kept her voice strong, but with no trace of reproach. This was not a time for conflict between them. "Calm down!" He stopped and looked at her, surprised at her commanding approach. She continued. "Take a deep breath." He did so, and she watched as he forced his emotions into check.

"Now," said Hermione, "I need ten minutes to brew a simple massage oil with some muscle-relaxing and calming ingredients, then I'm going to help you relax. I'm going to start on your back, and take my time massaging your whole body. When I've done that, we're going to make love and forget about everything else but each other."

There was love in the eyes that gazed down at her, although few but her would be able to see it through his austere manner.

"It would seem that you have this all planned out," he said. "I will head to my rooms and make myself more comfortable while you brew."

A thought occurred to Hermione. "Will I be able to get through the doorway and into your rooms on my own?"

He considered. "That had not occurred to me, but it is easily fixed. I will alter my wards to recognize you."

Hermione smiled. "Like giving me my own key."

Severus stroked her cheek. "Don't take too long," he murmured, and bent to kiss her before turning to head towards his rooms. She watched him go, then hurriedly began to gather her ingredients.

* * *

It took several weeks for things to settle a little between Hermione, Ron and Harry. The first week was particularly tough, with barely a word spoken, but Hermione was relieved when, seeing her appear in the common room one morning of the second weekend, they offered her a quiet "Breakfast?" and the three of them headed for the Great Hall together. Things were not as they had been before, of course, but at least they were talking again. Harry and Ron seemed to understand how bad things would be for Hermione if anyone else knew about the relationship, and they gave their word that they would say nothing. The fact that public knowledge would hurt Hermione as well as Snape seemed to disappoint Ron tremendously, as it meant that it could not be used against the Potions Master, but he reluctantly accepted this, and agreed not to cause problems.

The first Potions Lesson, only three days after the fight, began with a tense moment when the looks between students and teacher as Ron and Harry entered the room had been full of anger. Hermione had held her breath for an anxious moment as the three of them paused, before the two boys took their seats.

During the lesson, Snape responded calmly to Malfoy's question about his bruised face, explaining that he had had an accident during the weekend, but not going into details. He used the opportunity, though, to remark on Harry's injuries. "I see that Mr. Potter also has some scars from the weekend," he mocked. "Brawling, Potter?" Harry glared but said nothing, and Snape turned away with a sneer. "You really should learn to control that temper."

Hermione wasn't sure that baiting Harry was the wisest thing to do, given his state of mind, but this was no more or less than the class would expect from the teacher, and no-one seemed to make a connection between the bruising on the two of them. And why should they, she wondered? The idea of Harry and Snape fighting was too ridiculous for anyone to consider, even given their well-known enmity. Only Hermione seemed to notice the change in the way they looked at each other – Severus now seemed to have a little more respect, however carefully hidden, for Harry, and the student, in his turn was more able to meet the teacher's eyes in resentful defiance of his sneering comments.

Potions lessons after this had been tense, but mostly uneventful. Snape continued with his usual practice of pouring praise on the Slytherins and derision on Gryffindors, respectively awarding and deducting house points at every opportunity. Hermione was the subject of much amusement from the Slytherin students, when she fell victim to Snape's icy tongue for a piece of work that was, according to him, inadequate, badly written and showing practically no understanding of the subject matter.

"I will begin to regret my approval of your sixth-year project, Miss Granger," he snarled at her, "if this is the standard to which your work has slipped as a result." He tossed a handful of scrolls onto her desk, allowing one of them to roll off and fall to the ground with a clatter. "If I didn't know better, I would almost believe these were written by Longbottom."

As a matter of fact, Hermione's project had been progressing extremely well. Many evenings had been spent working in companionable silence in the dungeon – often with the two other students choosing Potions for their projects. After a frighteningly close call just before Halloween, Stephen's work on antidotes was now proving, thankfully, more than a match for Oliver's poison brewing capabilities.

In deference to Dumbledore's comments about secrecy, the lovers had taken more care about covering their tracks. Hermione had spent many nights in Severus' arms, but they had carefully ensured that she was safely back in her own room before anyone else in the Gryffindor tower had stirred. In part, this was also to prevent further trouble being caused between Hermione and her friends. Although little was being said about Snape, once they were speaking to her again, she did not want to provide constant reminders of the situation, by allowing them to see her returning early in the mornings.

They had not avoided the subject altogether, though, and there was one conversation with Harry and Ron that Hermione found particularly difficult, but she was glad that it happened. The three of them were the last ones in the Gryffindor common room one evening, and Harry seemed to have been waiting until they were alone.

"Hermione?" he began, awkwardly. "I want to ask you something about Snape."

"Okay," she said.

"I know that he was really important in getting rid of Voldemort last year, and that he was definitely on our side, but… before he changed sides, he must have done a lot of bad stuff."

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said quietly.

"Do you talk about that?"

She took a deep breath. She was asking her friends to accept Severus - to trust him. Even hoping that they would come to like him; it was understandable that they would wonder about this.

"We've talked about it," she said. "He did a lot of things before he changed. He's told me some of it, but not all."

"How have you managed to … forgive him?"

She grimaced. "It's not a question of forgiveness … and even if it was, I wouldn't really have the right to forgive him for something that wasn't done to me. I think he's done things that can never be 'forgiven'. But he's a different person now. The man he is now could never do those things."

"So you just forget what he did when he was a Death Eater?" asked Ron, looking shocked.

"No," said Hermione, quickly. "I can't forget it, but I accept it. It's part of who he is, and his past influences almost everything he does. After Voldemort tried to kill you, Harry, the Wizengamot chose not to send him to Azkaban, but that doesn't mean he wasn't punished. I think the things he had to do to maintain his cover torture him more than what he did by choice. He … has nightmares. Terrible ones that leave him distraught and in absolute agony. He suffers for every single person he hurt."

Harry frowned. "If he's changed so much, how come he's ... "

Ron finished the question for him, "... such a git?"

Trying not to flinch at this, she shook her head. "I know he's harsh and he doesn't suffer fools, but he's not actually horrible to anyone except you. I suspect he thinks bullying people like Neville will make them work harder. And," she hesitated, "I think he's always been that way because he's miserable. He's been mistrusted and ostracized, and I think maybe he's always believed he doesn't deserve to be happy. It's made him angry and bitter. I don't like the way he treats students, but I can't interfere with how he chooses to teach. But he's not like that with me; he's gentle and sweet and caring. He's a good man."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, unsure of what to think. Eventually Harry asked, "You said he has nightmares. Do you sleep with him?"

"Yes. I stay in his room three or four nights a week," she told them. "We just want to be together."

"I suppose it's a good thing sixth-years get their own rooms, or the other girls would know you weren't in your bed half the time," Ron stated. "You really seem to love him."

Hermione nodded and Harry gave a deep sigh. "Well, I suppose we can try to…" he seemed to be searching for the best words, "... not hate him so much," he eventually finished with a slight mirthless laugh.

It was the best that Hermione could hope for, and she was pleased with even this slight improvement in feeling.

She had not planned on telling them about Professor Dumbledore, but when Ron asked if anyone else knew, she had to answer truthfully. They were surprised to hear his comments, but the headmaster's assessment of Hermione's ability to make her own decisions seemed to give them food for thought. They agreed to follow his lead, but preferred not to hear too much more about it, which Hermione thought was the best arrangement, all-in-all.

 _Life would be so much simpler if I'd fallen in love with just about anybody else_ , she reflected.

* * *

As the end of November approached, things finally seemed to be getting closer to normal and Ron and Harry asked for Hermione's assistance with their own 'project' of finding the passage to the lake. All of their explorations in the dungeon since Halloween had been by the boys alone, carefully avoiding the area of the Bloody Baron's portrait. They explained to her about how they had found themselves in the Potions classroom that night, and she shuddered at the thought of running into the Bloody Baron. Their explorations had proved fruitless, and they realized that they needed more information to narrow down the search. Hermione hit upon the idea of asking Nearly Headless Nick, but he was unable to help them. They had hoped that his knowledge of the castle would prove useful, but at their question about the area where the Bloody Baron had been spotted, he clammed up completely, and began to avoid all conversation about the dungeons.

"Marvelous," said Ron, disappointed. "You always think that living people are supposed to be frightened by ghosts, but the other ghosts seem more frightened of the Baron than we are. What can he do to them?" he demanded. "Kill them again?"

But all argument proved hopeless, and they eventually gave up on Nick and followed Hermione's lead back to the library.

An event that made Hermione happier than she had been since the night of discovery was Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the year. Slytherin and Hufflepuff had already played, during the first weekend in November, with Slytherin winning (following several rather dubious and underhand moves unnoticed by Madam Hooch) by almost two hundred points. Now was the match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and Hermione watched from the stands with Ron, Neville and Hagrid. Even for Hermione, who had never fully grasped (or cared about, despite her brief romance with Victor Krum) the intricacies of the game, it was amazing to watch. It was a hard fought battle, with Ravenclaw having a strong team of chasers, who were pushing ahead and kept widening the gap between the scores. It had reached two hundred and forty to Ravenclaw and one hundred and twenty to Gryffindor, with no sign of the snitch. With the opposition a hundred and twenty points ahead, Gryffindor could not afford to lose more, or even the capture of the snitch would not save the game. At last, a streak of red flashed across the pitch, hurtling towards the ground at an amazing speed. Harry had seen the Snitch. Ron grabbed Hermione's arm as he stood, his eyes focused unwaveringly on the zooming broom, then, as Harry swerved at the last minute, and shot into the air in triumph, Ron turned to her and threw his arms around her in excitement. She hugged him back, fiercely, and when they pulled apart, he smiled at her – a genuinely warm smile – for the first time in several weeks. Talking excitedly with Harry, on the way back to the school, Ron even managed to joke with her.

"Great job, Harry," he grinned. "It's just a good thing you weren't playing against Slytherin. I'm not quite sure which team Hermione would have been cheering for!"

She was worried for a second, until she saw the expression on his face, then punched him playfully. "Don't worry," she laughed. "When it comes to Gryffindor versus Slytherin at Quidditch, Severus Snape is on his own!"

Heading back to her room, after a long evening of laughing by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was surprised to find a single red rose on her pillow. The stem was wrapped in ribbons of green and silver – the Slytherin colours. There was no note, but she smiled. Severus had some work to finish tonight and did not want any 'distractions' ("Me, a distraction?" she had asked, innocently, at the time), so they had agreed that they would sleep apart.

Conjuring a vase and placing the rose beside her bed, she sniffed the fragrant petals. "You're turning into quite a romantic, Severus Snape!" she said softly.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione waited until Severus had left the Great Hall after breakfast, then hurried down to the dungeon to see him. He was in his office, and she closed the door before rushing over to perch on his lap. She wrapped her arms about his neck, and kissed him, lovingly.

"I missed you last night, Severus," she told him, as his arms encircled her and he held her tightly.

"Indeed?" was his only reply.

She ran her fingers into his hair, wishing she could do more. "I can't stay long," she said, regretfully. "I said I'd meet Ron and Harry in the library, but I wanted to come and thank you for the rose."

His response surprised her. "What rose?"

She assumed that he was teasing her, but – no – the expression on his face was serious. "The rose on my pillow, last night."

Clearly, he was not joking, and knew nothing about this. "I didn't leave you a rose, Hermione." He tipped his head back a little, and looked at her with an expression she was not sure she liked. "It would seem that you have a secret admirer."

She smiled and kissed him again. "Very puzzling. But you know that I love you – I could never want anyone but you, Severus." A playful glint came into her eyes, "And I do love a mystery!"


	19. Far Off Places

**Chapter 19 - Far Off Places**

The cat was there again.

The classroom was quiet after the final class of the day, and Snape was marking essays from his seventh-year N.E.W.T. students. After teaching the students for six full years, they knew his requirements and their work was to an acceptable standard. Several of his students were heading towards achieving an Exceeds Expectations in their final exams, and two could reach Outstanding if they applied themselves well for the rest of the year.

He looked up from the scrolls at the cat. It was watching him from the doorway, as though studying him. There were several cats around Hogwarts, and it was not uncommon to see them chasing mice in the dungeons, but they generally steered clear of his classroom. Occasionally, he sent hexes in their direction to scare them away, especially after the time Mrs. Norris had almost tripped him. He had accidentally kicked kicked her at the time, and she no longer ventured into the dungeon without Filch. One of the students' cats had markings very similar to Minerva McGonagall, and he had once almost started talking to it until he saw it licking itself in a way that he was certain the deputy headmistress would never do.

The cat in the doorway twitched its tail and jumped up to the top of a cupboard. Snape had no particular feelings either for or against cats, but this one seemed to have been hanging around a lot, lately and it was starting to irritate him. It was a large ginger tom with bushy fur and orange eyes in a squashed-looking face. He had probably seen it around the school at times, but never really taken much notice. It stared down at him, then curled up on top of the cupboard and appeared to go to sleep.

He finished his marking, then stood, glad to have finished his work before dinner, so his evening was free to spend with Hermione. As he headed to the door, he looked at the cat, still asleep at about the same height as Snape's head.

"Cat!" he said, sharply. It lifted its head and turned an insolent face to him. "Out!"

The cat didn't move for a second or two, then slowly stood, stretched, jumped down and strolled unhurriedly out of the door. Snape resisted the temptation to hurry it along with either his wand or his foot. He closed the classroom door and headed towards the great hall.

* * *

It was a clear December night as Hermione and Severus stepped out of the castle hand in hand under cover of an invisibility spell. The air was cold and fresh, but their thick cloaks protected them, and his hand seemed to transfer warmth from his own body to hers.

She found herself opening up her thoughts to him, wanting to tell him everything she was feeling as they walked. "I don't know what it is about you, Severus," she told him, softly. "When I'm with you I feel so warm and somehow – safe – as though nothing could possibly harm me when we're together."

He smiled. "I like to think that I would be able to protect you from most things. There are certain skills you hone when you spend periods of your life in constant danger." He squeezed her hand.

"Do you think you're still in danger?" she asked, hesitantly.

It was something they had never discussed. The battle against Voldemort the previous year had left Harry and several others barely alive. Severus had been in St. Mungo's for several weeks, as had others. Hermione had been one of the lucky few not to have been injured. Not physically.

"Perhaps. Most of the Dark Lord's followers are in Azkaban, but there may be some who were never identified. Some of those who were caught did not receive life sentences and may be released at some time in the future, and many have families that are less than happy with me."

He seemed to sense her worry and he stopped walking and drew her to him. "Don't worry, Hermione," he whispered. "I don't believe they have the courage to try to hurt me, and even if they did, I know how to look after both of us." He drew back and placed a hand on her cheek. "Besides, you have changed everything for me. For the first time in my life I have something I truly want to for!"

Tears threatened Hermione's eyes as she gazed up into his dark face, but she held them back. "I love you," she said, simply, feeling that somehow the words couldn't possibly express the way she felt.

In the shadows, she could not see his eyes, but she felt them on her face. "You don't know what that means to me, Hermione," he whispered hoarsely. "I love you too – so much. So much!"

They held each other for a long time, then once again he took her hand and they continued to walk.

"Did you find out who sent the rose?" Severus' tone was casual as he changed the subject, but she suspected that the off-handedness was taking some effort on his part. It had been a week since she had found the rose on her pillow, and she still had no clue as to the sender, other than the house colours on the stem.

"No idea," she replied. "It must be a Slytherin, from the colours of the ribbons, but it doesn't matter anyway. Why would I care who sent it?"

He squeezed her hand. "Just watch out for those Slytherins," he warned. "They're sneaky and treacherous. Definitely not to be trusted."

She laughed. "I think most of them would see that as a compliment!" His only comment was a soft, indecipherable grunt. They walked for a long time, and eventually stopped at a place that gave them a view across the castle, the lake and the forbidden forest.

Snape laid his cloak down on the ground, and sat, gently pulling her with him. It was soft and warm, and the cold of the night air did not seem to touch them. "Stay on the cloak," he said softly, "and we'll be warm. I put a charm on it."

"Foolish wand waving?" Hermione quipped.

"It has its uses."

She sat with her back to him, between his legs, and resting back into his arms. They gazed out across the scene, watching every movement – owls soaring overhead, the gently moving surface of the lake, the breeze stirring the branches in the forest. Everything was bathed in a soft moonlight, and Hermione felt that she could stay like this all night.

Severus began to speak very softly, almost breathing the words into her ear.

"Let your mind relax, Hermione," he murmured slowly. "Let me teach you magic that needs no wands or potions." His voice was measured and hypnotic, and she let herself be led by it. The words were slow and his voice seemed to drift away, so that Hermione could barely tell the difference between his voice and the silence that followed every sentence.

"Clear your mind. Let your mind drift. Let it empty of all thoughts and feelings, and just exist, calm and relaxed. Feel the breeze on your face. Let it touch you and carry you away. Imagine your mind is a leaf on that breeze and see where it will take you. You have no weight – no substance – you have become the breeze. It is taking you away from here – across the lake. You can feel the cold contact of the water as you touch it briefly as you pass over it. You make tiny ripples that head outwards and disappear. You see the glinting of the moonlight on the dark water. Now you're drifting onwards. The water is behind you, and you are moving over the trees. The leaves brush against you as you move, and you hear their soft rustle as you stir them. You are one with the trees and the darkness. The night surrounds you and envelops you and fills you. The darkness is calming and soothing, and you are at perfect peace with the world. You are drifting over the world. You can feel the life in the forest – the trees, the creatures, the wind – and you are one with that life. Let it fill you and be a part of you.

"You are coming back now. You are leaving the forest and your mind is once again over the lake. The water is like silk under your touch, and you feel its life, flowing through the vast depths. You can feel everything in the water - every deep current, every ripple, every life.

"You drift on. The grass is beneath you now, and it sways and bends under the breeze that is your mind. You have become the grass – you understand its existence – you know its thoughts and feelings – you sway in the breeze and reach up to the sky. You reach down into the cool earth and feel its power and life. You move on, and you are the breeze. You pick up a leaf in your drifting mind, and carry it along, floating, twirling, falling, rising. You have become the leaf, and the wind is carrying you back to me.

"You are here with me now, and the breeze is on your face."

Hermione stirred as she felt the warmth of Severus' soft breath against her cheek. His arms were around her and neither of them had moved. She was somehow calm and exhilarated and at peace all at the same time. Taking deep breaths, she leaned back against him, feeling his warmth and strength behind her.

"What was that?" she asked, softly, a little shaken.

Severus kissed her cheek. "The spell is Sensus Iterica."

"It was beautiful, Severus," she whispered.

He rested his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled against the side of her face. "I do it myself, sometimes," he explained, "to escape wherever I am and let my mind drift."

"I could almost feel the leaves and the water, as though I were really there," she said.

"The sensations can become very real when the spell is performed effectively. With practice, one can do it from anywhere – or to anywhere – but it helps at first, if one can see the place. That's why I wanted to come here."

"I'm glad we did. I love being away from the castle with you. It would be wonderful not to have to hide all the time."

"There will come a time when we will be able to be open about our relationship," Severus said, "but it will be a long time, unfortunately."

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the peaceful scene.

Severus," Hermione asked, softly, "where do you live, when you're not at Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts is my home, but I do have a small place about a hundred miles west of here," he said. "I rarely go there."

She smiled. "Could we go there for Christmas?"

His head tilted to the side in a question. "Would you like to? I would have asked you, but I assumed you would be expected at home."

"I've already told my parents that I might want to stay here this year as I have so much work to do. The family's spending Christmas at my aunt's house, and it's not my idea of fun."

"Indeed? I usually remain here, but spending Christmas with you would be a much better idea."

She reached a hand up to touch his face, and he kissed her fingers lightly as she continued. "Owl post would find me wherever I am. Harry and Ron would assume I was home, and my family would think I was here."

Severus was silent for a while, then spoke softly, with amusement in his voice. "Ms. Granger, you are becoming devious and conniving. Maybe you should have been in Slytherin!"

For a long time, they stayed at the top of the hill, drinking in the view and the night air, then, wrapping their cloaks about them, they walked slowly back to the castle, hand in hand.

* * *

Harry and Ron drew their cloaks about themselves as they crossed the grounds to Hagrid's hut, discussing the rose that Hermione had found on her pillow. They had not managed to find out anything at all about the identity of the mystery admirer, and had no idea how to change this. Hermione had told them about it – and about Snape's denial – and it seemed that she was as much in the dark as they.

"I wonder what Snape thinks about it," wondered Ron. "I can imagine him being the jealous type."

Harry agreed, hoping, for Hermione's sake, that this was not too much the case. "Maybe it's a good thing," he suggested. "Hermione might change her mind about him if there's someone else sending her roses!"

They looked at each other, guiltily. Neither was happy about their wish to disrupt Hermione's love life, but they could not help feeling this way about the man they had both hated for so long. They had agreed that they would never deliberately sabotage things, but she couldn't expect them to encourage her.

"The only problem, though," said Ron, "is that it had Slytherin colours. It could be someone worse than Snape!"

Harry didn't see how this could be possible. "No way! The only person that could be worse than Snape would be ... "

They looked at each other, horrified, and said, in unison, "Malfoy!"

For a moment, they stared at each other, then began to laugh uncontrollably at the thought. Malfoy had reacted badly to the events of the previous year and, while he had lost a little of his cockiness, he was probably more malicious and loathsome than he had ever been. True, they had had no idea that the apparent hostility between Snape and Hermione had been to cover their real feelings, but the idea of Hermione and Malfoy was simply too far fetched.

They were still laughing as they reached the door to Hagrid's hut.

"What you two up to, then?" he asked them, as he gestured them in, but before they could answer, he had turned to the corner of his hut and was beckoning them over, excitedly. He was pointing to the dark space under his bed, from which was coming a faint snuffling noise. Every few seconds, this would erupt into a loud banging and screeching, as though something was trying to get out, and the two boys could just catch a glimpse of something hairy and fast spinning around in the darkness. "Look wha' I got!" Hagrid told them proudly.

Past experience made Harry and Ron extremely wary. It was only the fact that neither wanted to risk offending their friend and teacher, that prevented them both from edging back towards the door. "What is it, Hagrid?" Harry asked, cautiously, not at all certain he wanted to know.

Hagrid beamed. "No idea!" he said with a happy shrug. "It came in last night when I let Fang out, and it won't leave. I'm calling him Marmaduke!"

"Erm ... Oh ... !" said Ron, not quite sure what else would be appropriate. It was only then that he noticed Fang in the opposite corner of the hut, as far away from the unidentified guest as possible. He whimpered at Harry and Ron from behind Hagrid's armchair, and they could quite see his point. Still, Marmaduke, whatever he – or she, or it – was, seemed quite content to stay under the bed, and no-one except Hagrid would object to this arrangement. They sat down in the huge armchairs by the fire and drank the hot tea that Hagrid poured for them.

They talked about the upcoming Christmas holidays, which they were both spending at Hogwarts, and their hopes of finding the hidden passage to the lake. Hagrid, seeming more and more the experienced teacher each year, reminded them about their sixth-year projects, and the draft report that they had to hand in soon after the holidays.

When asked about Hermione, they felt guilty about having to say that they still didn't know who her new boyfriend was. They told him about the anonymous rose, though, and he seemed to enjoy the mystery. "Well, o' course she's going t'ave boys around 'er, Hermione is!" he told them. "Prettiest girl in't school. I'm surprised it wasn't one o' you two sendin' 'er roses." He chuckled. "But after seein' yer dancin' at Halloween, I suppose you've got other girls on yer minds."

Ron was forced to take desperate measures to change the subject. "Oh, look," he said brightly, pointing under the bed. "I think I saw a claw!" It was an effective diversion, and the names Parvati and Ginny were, thankfully, avoided.

Before leaving, they took a romp outside the hut with Fang. "Don't worry, boy," sympathized Harry. "I'm sure Marmaduke won't stay too long." Fang did not seem too convinced, but licked Harry and Ron's faces before heading back to the hut at the sound of Hagrid's voice.

* * *

Snape surveyed the classroom from his seat behind his desk. All was silent as the class worked with heads down. They were a pathetic lot, he mused – not a decent potion-brewer between them. Most were barely competent, with a couple almost as bad as Longbottom. Still – they were keen enough. A small knot of them tried hard – it was a pity that they had no aptitude in the subject, and could never hope to master its intricacies.

The movement of a head caught his attention. "Graves," he rumbled, "keep your eyes on your own work. Besides, the quality of Parker's work scarcely merits plagiarism."

A silent lesson with students working on a test suited him well today. His mind had been wandering, and he wanted some peace in which to enjoy his thoughts. A little over a week would see the students leaving for Christmas, and for a change he would be leaving with them. He had not been to his own house for almost two years, but it would be the perfect place to spend time with Hermione.

He didn't think of it as a home; Hogwarts had long since claimed that title. It was a place in which he had spent so little time that he could not imagine thinking of it as a base for his life, but it was his own. His seclusion. His Haven.

It was certainly not his childhood home. That had held nothing but bad memories for him and he had not hesitated to sell it when the opportunity had arisen. Since he had bought Haven about eight years ago, he had never once had a visitor, nor wanted one. Few people knew of its existence, and the magic and solitude around it ensured privacy. The old stone building stood in a large clearing surrounded by dense trees, sloping down from the main door to a small lake. The area was completely deserted for miles around, but if anyone, magic or muggle, should happen to stray that way, they would see nothing but trees. In all, he had barely spent more than a few months at the place, but they had been peaceful times. He had been able to relax completely – undisturbed by the commotion of the outside world.

He wasn't quite sure why he had left it for so long. He told himself that it was because the less time he spent there, the more he appreciated it, but he knew, at the back of his mind, that he sometimes found the quiet a little too much. To be honest with himself, he wasn't entirely sure why he had bought it at all. Perhaps there was a part of him that liked to think that the school was not all he had. The importance of elsewhere.

But things were different now. Instead of isolation and solitude, it would become a place of perfect happiness. Picturing Hermione sitting in the room he liked to term 'the library', in front of a blazing fire, he felt that she belonged there – that somehow the place had never been complete before, and he had only just realized what had been missing. He saw her in his arms, and in his bed – warm and loving ...

He forced himself quickly to his feet. He had to stop thinking about this while he was teaching! Prowling round the room, he watched the students in his care, glaring critically down as he looked over their shoulders to review their work.

"Agnew," he snarled softly. "I believe I requested silence!"

Keep your mind on your class, Severus, he told himself sternly. It will be Christmas soon enough. He realized, with a carefully restrained smile, that for the first time since he had become a Hogwarts teacher he was looking forward to Christmas and the end of school as much as the students were.

* * *

 _Author's Notes - 6-Jul-2018:_

 _The original version of this story was written in 2001, which was after Goblet of Fire and before Order of the Phoenix. It was, and still is, in cannon to that point. At the end of GoF, we knew almost nothing of Severus' back story, so I invented things for myself. In the re-write, I am altering some things, but not making any attempt to bring the whole story up to cannon. In the 'A Change of Season' universe, Severus does not still live at Spinner's End. As it was never in books 1-4, I'm also totally leaving out Lily, and making only passing reference to James. They just don't fit with 'my' Severus._

 _Thank you for the reviews. I read them all and love the feedback. Reviews make a writer's world go around!_

 _Ten house points to anyone who can spot the poetry reference in this chapter. I often find Severus sneaking literary references into chapters! Usually Shakespeare, but not always._


	20. Blood and Roses

**Chapter 20 - Blood and Roses**

Christmas was getting closer. A blissful time with just himself and Hermione.

Snape was making a mental list of things he needed to get done before leaving the school. He wanted to be ahead with his preparation for classes in January, and he had several pieces of homework to finish marking.

But not this evening; This evening he was going to the Great Hall for dinner, then Hermione would be coming to his rooms. He smiled to himself as he pictured them sitting together before the fire, reading their books and enjoying each other's quiet company. And she would stay with him. What could be more wonderful than a night spent with the woman he loved in his arms?

He stepped out of his living room into the hallway and stopped. There was the cat, again! It seemed to have been waiting for the door to open, and immediately tried to slip past him into his rooms. Quickly, he blocked its path and closed the door behind him.

"Get away, Furball," he muttered, and gave it a firm but careful shove with his foot. The squashed face glared up at him and slunk away, swishing its tail.

* * *

"Have you spoken to Hermione yet?"

The voice came from below Ron and to his left, as he rushed down the staircase, late for his next class. He stopped sharply and listened.

He didn't recognize the first voice that had spoken, but he knew the next well enough.

"No. I've tried, but I never have the nerve." It was Alistair Baddock.

Ron edged to the banister and peered over, looking down on the two boys at the foot of the stairs. The other boy he now recognized as Malcolm, Alistair's younger brother.

He seemed to be finding the older boy's hesitancy amusing. "Just ask her," he said. "What can be so hard about that? You sent her the rose didn't you?"

Holding his breath, Ron listened closely. There was one mystery solved!

"Well, yes, but ... "

The younger brother interrupted him. "Just talk to her. Anyway – I'd better get to class, or McGonagall will have kittens!"

He rushed off, leaving his brother standing deep in thought. Then he seemed to shake himself before hurrying off, leaving Ron staring after him.

Catching up with Harry at the last class of the day, he told him what he had overheard.

Harry thought about the news with interest. "He's not bad, as far as Slytherins go." He said. "Better than Malfoy."

 _Even Snape's better than Malfoy_ , thought Ron. "What do you think Hermione will say?"

There would be only one way to find out about that. As they stepped out of their last class, they thought they would have the perfect opportunity to tell her but she rushed past.

"Hermione!" Ron called out after her.

She slowed and turned, but was clearly in a hurry to be somewhere. "Hi, Ron. Harry," she smiled. "I've got to run. I'll meet you at dinner." She hurried off.

"Wonder what she's in such a hurry for?" asked Ron, rolling his eyes.

* * *

Hermione did not want to leave Severus' office, but knew that Ron and Harry would be waiting for her at dinner. They had arranged to spend the evening in the library, getting some work out of the way, so that they didn't end up with too much over Christmas. They had only three school days left before the end of term, and even Hermione did not plan to spend the holidays with her nose in school books!

"I have to go, Severus!" she laughed, as he gripped her waist, holding her to him. "They'll be waiting for me."

Eventually, he relented, and released her. Giving him a final kiss, she stepped quickly out of his reach and headed for the door before he could change his mind.

"Just remember that tomorrow night is all ours, Ms. Granger!" he warned her in a dangerously low voice.

She smiled and closed the door quietly behind her.

Laughing to herself, she headed quickly through the dim corridor to the stairs to the main school. Her mind was so much on thoughts of her lover that she almost walked into the figure that was heading in the opposite direction. It was Alistair.

"Sorry, Alistair," she smiled, dodging him at the last minute before a collision.

It was only when she had already gone a few steps beyond him that he spoke her name. "Hermione?" She turned. "I ... erm ... wanted to ask you something."

He looked nervous, and seemed to be uncomfortable about something. "Sure," Hermione said, wondering what could be making him nervous.

"I ... wanted to ask you ... if ... next time there's a Hogsmeade weekend, if ... you'd like to go with me?" The last part was blurted out quickly, as though he wanted to say it before his courage died.

This was unexpected, and Hermione found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "I ... "

He continued, trying to fill the awkward silence. "I understand if you don't want to. I mean, ... " He suddenly changed subjects, and caught her off guard. "Did you like the rose?"

If this conversation had happened at the start of term, it might have been quite different, she reflected, but there was no way that she could think of anyone but Severus now. It was impossible to imagine herself with anyone else. Alistair was tall and good-looking, and she had enjoyed their dances at Halloween. She had found him pleasant to talk to, but she had no other feelings for him.

"I loved the rose," she said, truthfully. "It was a really sweet gesture. But ... I don't feel the same way. I'm sorry."

Alistair's eyes were on the floor, and he didn't look up as he said, "That's ... that's okay. I just wanted to ask." He seemed rooted to the spot where he stood, not knowing quite what to do now. Eventually, he managed a mumbled, "I'll see you around, then," but made no move to go.

Hermione felt awkward, wishing there was some other way to let him down. "I think you're a really nice guy, Alistair," she told him softly, "but ... I'm seeing someone else."

He nodded. Hermione turned to go, but on impulse, she turned back to him, lightly touched his shoulder, and reached up on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for the rose," she said softly, then turned and headed up the stairs.

* * *

Snape gave Hermione enough time to be out of the corridor, then followed her towards the Great Hall. He would make the most of the time before the holidays, too, and make sure that his time with Hermione over Christmas would not be interrupted with anything as trivial as work. A quick dinner, then he would get his marking out of the way. With the way Hermione had been disturbing his concentration over the last few weeks, he was not as up-to-date with everything as he would like be!

He stepped out of the classroom, strode down the passage, and stopped himself as he sensed people ahead of him. Hermione should have gone by now, but he didn't want to run into her. They were heading the same way, and it wouldn't do to be seen walking together.

Slowing as he reached the bend in the corridor, he saw two figures in the dimness. They had obviously been kissing – they were drawing apart now. He should step ahead and break them apart – probably Slytherins, so a few simple put-downs would suffice, rather than actually taking house points. It was only when he heard the soft voice he knew so well that he froze in his tracks. "Thank you for the rose."

Hermione.

The boy – it was Baddock! Halloween. I never did like that boy, he thought. Oh, my prophetic soul.

His body was cold. Drained. Empty.

Forcing his footsteps backwards, he pulled into the shadows. He stood for a moment, then spun, his robes billowing behind him as he headed back to the classroom.

He didn't need to eat. Could miss going to the Great Hall. He had work to do. The piles of papers on his desk would not mark themselves. He sat at his desk, outwardly calm as he picked up his quill and pulled a stack of papers towards him.

Baddock. He forced his thoughts away from the boy in his house, and looked down at the paper in front of him.

Blood. Alyson Wright's essay on the uses of dried lizard skins had several large drops of blood on the parchment, and he realized with detached awareness that it was his. In his hand was an empty vial – it had been on his desk – he must have been moving it to make room to mark the papers. It was shattered into long slivers, and his knuckles were white as he still clutched the sharp shards.

Turning his hand over with remote interest, he watched the drops of blood run across his palm and fall onto the scroll.

* * *

By Wednesday morning, the students were well into the spirit of Christmas and had hoped that the same would apply to the teachers. Alas, this was not the case – and certainly not when it came to Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall had decided that a surprise test would be an effective method of keeping her students focused on work, and sprang this on them at the start of the lesson. Hermione, naturally, finished earlier than most and was using the time to revise her notes when the teacher leaned over to her.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall asked quietly, so as not to disturb those still working, "as you have finished your test, I wonder if you would mind slipping down to the dungeon for me? Professor Snape offered to supply me with some dragonfly wings, and I have not had chance to collect them from him."

Hermione smiled as she headed down the stone stairs towards the potions classroom. How could she object to a trip to the dungeon?

The class of first years studiously measuring and mixing under the watchful eye of the Potions Master, looked every bit as nervous as Hermione remembered being during first year Potions. The mixtures in the cauldrons were mostly a deep mustard yellow, with the exception of the one in the corner, on which the teacher's attention was currently focused. The student responsible for the reddish, smoking liquid quivered visibly under Snape's glare, clearly wishing to be anywhere but where she was.

From her position in the open doorway, Hermione watched the scene, feeling incredibly sorry for the poor girl, who was wearing an expression remarkably like the one she had seen so often on Neville's face. However, she had long ago promised herself that she would not comment too much on his style of teaching. She had made her views known, but beyond that, felt that she had no right to interfere.

She studied him for a moment – those dark eyes, the hair down to his shoulders, the proud stance – he was not exactly handsome, but his appearance was striking, and just looking at him made her draw breath. As he spoke, his voice added to her arousal, rumbling inside her mind, exciting her with its throaty, resonant hum.

"Jenkins," growled Snape, "after more than three months of being in my class, you never cease to amaze me with your ever more fascinating ways of displaying your incompetence."

Hermione sighed. It was unfortunate (or maybe not, she reflected, wryly) that the words drew her thoughts away from his incredible sensuality. Miss Jenkins was looking miserably down at her feet, waiting for the inevitable deduction of house-points, and Hermione chose that moment to step in, drawing the cat's attention away from the mouse.

Snape looked up as she moved. "You are interrupting my lesson, Ms. Granger!"

They had long been playing this game in class, and Hermione met his less than warm welcome without expression. "I'm sorry Professor Snape," she responded composedly. "Professor McGonagall asked me to pick up some dragonfly wings for her."

He regarded her coldly, then turned to his desk, picked up a sealed package, and handed it to her. "Kindly inform Professor McGonagall that in future I would prefer not to be disturbed while I am teaching." Hermione was a little surprised. True, this was how they always acted during lessons, but she thought she knew his eyes well enough to see the glint in them as they battled. This time, there was nothing. She shrugged it off, lightly. He was too good at this game – he was beginning to fool even her.

"Yes, Professor."

* * *

Several hours later, Hermione was stepping back into the classroom, and paused at the doorway as she had done earlier. He was standing in much the same place as during their morning encounter, but this time with his back to her. She watched him for a moment, then spoke.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor," she said, stepping into the classroom, "but Professor McGonagall sent me!"

He did not turn. "I'm not in the mood for games, Hermione!" His voice was dispassionate. Cold.

Hermione's heart sank. This did not bode well for the lovely night they had planned – dinner, maybe a walk, making love in front of the fire. "Severus, what's wrong?" She closed the door behind her, and crossed over to him, placing a hand on his back.

He did not respond to the touch, acting as though he had not felt it. His arms were folded in front of him, and his back was rigid. "I see that you finally discovered the identity of the mysterious admirer." He still wasn't' looking at her. "Have you been getting more roses?"

A relieved sigh went through Hermione's body. Was that all? If this was simply a case of misunderstanding, it should be easy to set the record straight. "Alistair told me as I was leaving here last night that he sent the rose. I told him I wasn't interested."

"You kissed him," he said, simply.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I gave him a kiss on the cheek to thank him." She had no reason to lie to him about this – she genuinely had no interest in anyone but Severus. "The rose was a very sweet gesture, even if it was misguided."

Severus' resolute stance on this subject surprised and troubled Hermione very much. Surely he trusted her more than this? He knew that she loved him. How could he possibly suspect that she would even think of anyone else? Yet his body language showed no weakening of his resolve. Still he did not move and, with his head held high staring straight ahead, she could not even look straight into his eyes.

This was beginning to worry and annoy her. "What is going on, Severus?" she demanded. "Don't you trust me? You know that I love you. Why are you even questioning this?"

"I suppose Baddock is lucky that your friends weren't sneaking around when the two of you were kissing," Snape snarled. "He might have got the same reaction as me. He is a Slytherin, after all!"

Hermione's patience snapped. She turned away from him, disbelievingly, then whirled back to face him. "I can't believe you're reacting this way to an innocent kiss!" she insisted. "How can you not trust me?"

Snape had still not moved. She paused, unable to comprehend why he was doing this. "Do you know what I was thinking when I was talking to Alistair?" she asked him. "I was comparing him to you. I was thinking about how I could never even consider seeing him, when I'm so much in love with you." She took a deep breath, and calmed her voice, reducing it to the softness that he used as his weapon against the rest of the world. "Look at me, Severus," she said softly.

Snape's eyes finally turned to meet hers, but they were black and unfeeling. "I think that now would be a good time for you to leave, Ms. Granger," he said, icily.

For a moment, she stared at him. "I never thought that you wouldn't trust me, Severus," she told him softly, determined to keep her voice in check and not allow him to reduce her to tears in front of him. Fighting to keep herself under control, she left the classroom, quietly closing the door behind her.

Snape still did not move. Let her think that, he thought.

From the moment she had told him that she wasn't interested in Baddock, he had believed her without question. That was no longer an issue, and he had no doubts about her love. But let her think that. Let her believe that he was too jealous to trust her – too cynical ever to have faith in her. At least that would give her reason to hate him, and afford her some protection. It would be a less painful reason for her to live with than the truth behind his feelings.

He looked down, and studied the red marks across his hand. They were healed crudely, but he really didn't care. He had deeper marks than these, although not all were quite as visible.

Their relationship could no longer be allowed to continue. He knew that now. But he could never tell her why. The truth was more than she could handle, and he would have to bear the burden alone.

Steeling himself against the waves of emotions that were threatening to drown him, he set his face into a mask of granite, and turned towards his rooms alone.

* * *

Harry looked up from the chessboard as Hermione passed through the Gryffindor common room. He was losing badly, as always, and his players were getting impatient, sensing the approach of their twelfth defeat in a row!

"Hermione?" he called after her, as she rushed by them. There was no reply, and she disappeared up the stairs. He hadn't seen her face clearly, but he was sure she had been crying.

Ron turned to look in the direction she had left. "What was wrong?"

Harry shrugged, concerned. "I suppose she and Snape must have had an argument."

He caught his friend's eye, and realized that he was struggling with the same feelings as himself. But no – Hermione had been happy lately – neither of them could possibly wish for things to go wrong, however much they hated Snape.

Ron looked around and caught his sister's eye. She was across the other side of the common room, and had seen Hermione's quick run through. She mouthed something that Ron couldn't quite catch, but her meaning was clear as she set off up the stairs after her friend.

She was only gone for a few minutes, though, and returned looking downcast. "She's crying in her room," she reported, "but she won't let me in. She wouldn't say anything."

Looking at each other, uncomfortably, they had no option but to wait for her to come out.

* * *

The next day, Hermione went about her lessons as normal, refusing to talk to Ron and Harry about what had happened. "It will sort itself out," she told them, when they asked, then firmly changed the subject.

It was what she had been telling herself all day. She had cried herself to sleep, finally, in the early hours of the morning, then woken with a resolve to smooth things over. She would go to him after her classes, and force him to listen to her.

The time approached, and as she left her final class of the day, she hurried to leave her bags in the Gryffindor tower, then raced across the common room to go to his rooms. Before she could reach the portrait hole, however, she heard a snatch of conversation that stopped her. Two second years were talking excitedly in the armchairs by the fire.

"So Potions tomorrow is cancelled?" one of them was asking.

The other sounded like Christmas was early. "Yep!" she laughed happily. "My brother said that he left straight after their class this afternoon. He didn't have a class last thing today, and he's cancelled all his classes tomorrow."

They were practically jumping out of their chairs. "No more Potions until next year! Merry Christmas, Professor Snape!"

As Hermione reached the dungeon at a full run, she knew that she would find it empty. The classroom – deserted. His office – empty. His private rooms – she opened them with the spell she knew so well, but knew that it was pointless. She still had to check, though, before she could make herself believe it.

Severus had left without her.


	21. Owl Post

**Chapter 21 – Owl Post**

Many miles from Hogwarts, the last light of a glowing sun lit up the tops of the trees, bathing them in a golden light as they swayed in the wind. The lake, until a few minutes ago, touched by that same light, lay dark and restless. The wind played with the surface, picking up the top layer and whipping up small waves to dash against the rocky bank. Something large – a stag, maybe – turned from where it drank, hidden by thick bushes at the edge of the water, startled by a heavy fall of snow sliding from the branch of a tree as it reached over the water, and slipped silently back into the protection of the trees. The ray of sunlight rested, momentarily, on a drifting bank of snow at the top of the slope above an old stone house, then winked out as the sun finally slid beneath the horizon.

Inside the house, the dimming sky reflecting off the snow-covered landscape provided enough light to see a dark figure seated, unmoving, in a large chair. No candles were lit, and the empty grate could provide neither light nor warmth to the room or the man. He had watched the light of the sun through the window, falling on the wall opposite, and had followed its path across the floor and back up the wall at the other side, before disappearing and leaving the room in shadow. An owl flew overhead, dropped a carefully sealed scroll into the chimney, then disappeared over the trees, glad to be rid of the heavy load. The scroll slid easily down the chimney into the grate, and rolled to the floor, coming to rest touching the foot of Severus Snape.

He stared at it for many minutes before summoning it to his hand. Even then, he held it for a long time before pulling at the ribbon around it and breaking the seal. Without the crudity of words or wand, he flicked the candles into flame, and looked down at Hermione's elegant hand – a little less precise than usual, maybe. The address at the top was a muggle town, but not her home. She must have gone with her parents to her relative's place for Christmas. It was dated December 25th – she had written it today.

 _My Darling Severus_ , it began. He drew in his breath, and moved to reseal it. He couldn't read this, but then ... he couldn't put it aside, either. Having no other option, he opened it in front of him and read.

...

 _December 25_

 _My Darling Severus,_

 _I don't know what's going on right now, and it hurts me very much. Whatever the problem is, it was wrong of you to leave like that, without at least talking to me. I have no idea where you are, or what you are thinking, so all I can do is write this and hope it brings you to your senses._

 _Something tells me that there is more to your behavior over the rose than just jealousy. I really do not believe you think I would be seeing anyone else – or even want to. Whatever it is, I wish you would tell me, so we can talk about it. There is something that has caused a rift between us – in your mind, at least – but how can I fight against something when I don't know what it is?_

 _I don't think you can understand what you mean to me. When I first started spending time in the dungeon with you, I saw a side to you that I had never known existed. All my life, I have felt apart from everyone else. I've always been different. I had unusual abilities from being very young, even though no-one recognized them as magic. My parents have no magic in them, so they don't really understand me. At school – even Hogwarts – I've always been apart from my friends. I love Harry and Ron, but their interests are different from mine, and academically, I don't want to boast, but I know I'm ahead of the rest of the year. I love learning, but it does make it difficult for me to find anyone to relate to. When we started spending time together, I gradually realized that I had found someone I could really talk to. Someone who seemed to appreciate the same things I do, and whose company I found myself enjoying._

 _The months that we have spent together have been wonderful. I never knew that it was possible to fall in love with someone so quickly, but it happened. When you told me about your past, you worried it would change the way I felt about you. Hearing the details of things you have done was painful, but I have faith in the man you have become since then. That's why I find it so painful that you seem to lack faith in me._

 _I know you too well to believe that this is about my fidelity to you, but the fact that you didn't talk to me – and that you left the way you did – still proves that you don't believe in me, and that hurts. Surely you realize that nothing would alter the way I feel about you? Professor Dumbledore is right – I'm strong and know my own mind, and I know without question that we should be together._

 _Please, Severus – tell me where you are, so I can come to you. Being apart from you is killing me, wondering where you are, and what you are feeling._

 _I love you, Severus._

 _Hermione_

 _..._

Snape read the letter three times, scrutinizing every word. He knew her voice so well that with her words in front of him, he could hear her, and almost feel her next to him.

There was nothing in the letter that surprised him; nothing that he didn't know already. He knew how much she loved him, and he knew she was faithful to him. When he had seen her with Baddock, there had been a moment of doubt, but he believed her explanation entirely.

But it _was_ a lack of faith in her that had made him leave. Not in her love, but in her judgment, and seeing her with Baddock had made him realize it for the first time. He was a boy her own age, one who had never made - and would never make - the terrible choices that he himself had made. He had never committed unforgivable crimes that tore at his soul. Life with him would not cause her pain. She could be seen with him or anyone else without risk of judgement or outcry. She should be with someone like that.

But Hermione turned away from everyone else towards someone whose past was filled with darkness, and with whom she had to hide her love. She would always choose her love for him over her best hope of happiness, and it was the wrong choice.

He loved her with all his being, and had to make the decision for her that she would never make for herself.

He held the scroll in his outstretched palm, about to turn it to flame, but at the last second seemed to feel a hand reaching out to stop him.

" _Don't I get a say in this?"_ Hermione's voice whispered into his mind.

He knew what her arguments would be – that he was the one she loved and she could never be happy with someone else. But she was wrong.

" _I love you, Severus"_ Again, the voice.

She would learn to live without him. It may be painful, at first, but she would get over it. Whether she believed it or not, leaving her would cause her less pain in the end.

" _Our love is worth the risk!"_

Why was she doing this to him, damn it? He knew what he should do, but his emotions would not leave him in peace!

Once again, he held out the scroll, knowing it was the moment of decision.

If he wanted to give her a chance at real happiness he had to convince her of his jealousy – make her hate him – to spare her as much pain as possible. Then he had to find a way to live without her – a way to fill the hole that she would leave in his being. He just couldn't do it. He had said it before and it was still true - he couldn't bear to see her hate him.

If he gave in and thought only of his own happiness, he may have to watch her suffer through censure, losing her friends, isolation, and possibly even having to leave the school if their relationship became public knowledge. He would risk destroying the angel he loved with such burning obsession.

 _You have no right to decide this for both of us, Severus._

Slowly, his fingers curled around the scroll and held it. Opening it once again, he read the words, cherishing every sentence of the only love letter he had ever received. His gaze was drawn to the address at the top of the page. If he truly loved her, he couldn't make this decision for her.

With sudden determination he stood and summoned his broom.

He glanced towards the table where a small gift-wrapped box had lain since he arrived, and he slipped it into his pocket before striding out into the cold.

* * *

Christmas Day had been miserable for Hermione. She had woken early and lain staring at the ceiling, painfully trying to close her mind against thoughts of Severus, until she had heard others stirring. By the time everyone had arrived on Christmas morning – for only a handful stayed over on Christmas Eve – it was a full house. There were eighteen people in all – herself and her parents, three aunts, each with husbands and children in tow (ranging from three years to seventeen), a bachelor uncle, and one extremely ancient 'aunt' whose relationship to the family, Hermione had never quite figured out.

She had played along with the whole present-opening scene, smiling as she received extra copies of books she had read many years ago, and useless ornaments 'to brighten up your room at school, Dear'. The only exception to this, other than the presents from Ron and Harry, which she had already opened upstairs, was the gift from her parents – a small leather-bound book, with her name embossed in gold onto the red cover. The pages were blank, and the clasp could only be opened with a small key.

After opening presents, she had made her excuses and retreated to her room for several hours. Writing the letter to Severus had been painful but therapeutic, and she felt better for it. She had summoned an owl and sent it, even though she had no clue where the scroll would be going. Not needing to know an address – only an addressee – was a definite advantage of owl post over the muggle variety!

It was Aunt Rose who had become concerned about her prolonged absence from the commotion downstairs, and had taken it into her head to determine the cause of Hermione's melancholy attitude.

"I'm worried about you, my dear," she said, concerned. "You just don't seem yourself!"

Eventually, Hermione had decided that telling her half the truth – that she had had a disagreement with her boyfriend immediately before Christmas – would suffice. Instead, this made things worse, as Aunt Rose was determined to keep her busy, to prevent her from dwelling on such things. Once Hermione had sent the letter, though, there was nothing she could do but wait, so her aunt's distractions were, in a sense, welcome.

Her parents had also been included in the 'white lie' about her boyfriend. They, too, had seemed concerned about her, and knowledge of a boyfriend seemed to pacify them a little. Since Hermione's leaving to go to Hogwarts, she had been allowed a large amount of freedom about her movements. She was an independently-minded young woman, and it had always seemed to Hermione that her parents refused to challenge her on the basis that they were unsure whether they would win or drive her away. She felt sorry for them, in a way – she was their only daughter, and they clearly felt out of their depth in knowing how to handle her transformation from a gifted and precocious child to a young witch with magical abilities of which they had no understanding. She knew they cared deeply – but they expressed this by respecting her ability, as did Dumbledore, to make her own decisions.

It was many hours later that Hermione, in the middle of a game of cards with some cousins, received a reply to her owl. She felt it drop, unseen, into her pocket, and pulled out an envelope bearing the words 'Miss Hermione Granger'.

Stepping away from the table, she pulled it open and read the short note carefully.

...

 _Hermione,_

 _I am in "The Star and Spell" between the bookstore and the butcher's on the main street. Please come to me._

 _Severus._

 _..._

Giving her parents a brief explanation that her earlier letter had been replied to, she told them that she had to go out to meet him. They didn't look happy at the idea, but accepted it, though insisted on knowing where she was going. There was a brief moment of worry, when Aunt Rose, listening in on the conversation, insisted that there was no such pub as The Star and Spell in the village, but seemed impressed with Hermione's explanation that, unless a muggle knew exactly where it was, and was specifically looking for it, it would go unnoticed. In keeping with wizarding laws about involving muggles in their world, only a few people in Hermione's family, including her Aunt Rose, knew about her magical abilities.

Wrapping her witches cloak about her, she set off into the evening.

The Star and Spell was a small, quiet pub, with clientele that seemed equally happy in either muggle or wizarding world. Stepping inside, Hermione would not even have noticed that it was a magical haven, if not for the owl sitting sleepily on the bar, next to a smiling and waving photograph of the landlord. Other than that, she might have mistaken the place for a regular muggle establishment.

She glanced around at the few occupants as she entered, not seeing Severus. "I'm looking for ... " she began, addressing the landlord, but she did not need to continue. In a booth at the far end of the room, tucked into a quiet corner and previously hidden from sight by the curving bar, Severus Snape stood at the sound of her voice.

Hermione's first impulse was to rush to him and throw herself into his arms, but she stopped herself. She was happy to see him - so much so that she could cry - but also incredibly angry and hurt that he would leave without her.

She stepped towards him. "Why would you leave, Severus?" she asked him, quietly.

His face was serious and pained. "I shouldn't have done it, Hermione," he said, equally softly. "I am sorry I did."

They sat opposite each other in the booth, eyes locked together - hers showing hurt; his, anguish.

Before he said anything else, she had to find out one thing. "Severus, do you believe me about there being nothing with Alistair?"

"Of course I do," he said, immediately. "I don't doubt you at all! Hermione, I didn't leave because I thought you were seeing Baddock; I left because I felt that maybe you would be better off seeing him than me. Better off seeing anyone else than me."

Hermione started in shock at his reply, then felt a stab of pain in her heart for this man who could not or would not see his own worth. Tears began to well up behind her eyes, but she wanted to push them down until she had heard everything. She stalled for a moment.

"I think I need a firewhiskey," she said, noting the empty glass already on the table.

Severus stood to go to the bar, and Hermione took the moment to calm herself. He returned a few minutes later with two glasses.

"You know that I love you, Severus. Why would you think I'd be better off with someone else?"

He looked down at his drink. "Hermione, I love you more than I ever would have thought possible, but this relationship is always going to be difficult. We have to sneak around, pretend to dislike each other and lie to everyone. Even if we manage to keep it secret until you have left school, people will not approve of us. The age difference and the fact that I was your teacher will be bad enough, but a former Death-Eater? Your friends already hate the fact that we're together. I don't want to have to see you isolated and ostracized for being with me. You should be with someone who you can hold hands with in public; someone who doesn't have a past like mine; someone you can be proud to introduce your friends and family to."

Hermione reached over the table to take his hands. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she ignored it.

"If we didn't have to keep this secret," she said firmly, "I would be shouting from the rooftops that I'm in love with Severus Snape. I am proud to be with you and we will be able to show it in public in the future. I know that it's difficult while we have to stay hidden, but our relationship is worth it.

"As for other people, do you think I could ever be happy with someone else? Is there anyone else out there I could talk to the way we talk - who appreciates Shakespeare and Mozart and can discuss Golpalott's third law or argue about principals of Arithmancy or Gamp's Law? I know that you have a terrible past, but the way you've managed to change and become the wonderful man you are is one of the things I love about you.

He sighed. "Hermione, I know that you feel this way, and I know that you would choose me over someone who might be better able to bring you happiness in the long run. It's why I wanted to spare you from having to make that choice by leaving - so that you …"

Hermione abruptly drew her hands away and interrupted him, angrily. "Now _that_ , Severus Snape is insulting. You decided that since I wouldn't make the 'sensible' decision for myself that you would make it for me?"

He looked shocked and guilty in the face of her sudden anger. She continued. "Professor Dumbledore says that I know my own mind and that I can make my own decisions, but _you_ decide that I need protecting from my own bad judgement?"

The wizard held up his hands in a gesture of defeat - or perhaps as though shielding himself from her wrath. "I was wrong!" he admitted. "I have no right to try to make decisions for you."

"No right at all," she agreed. "If there are decisions that need to be made about our relationship, we have to make them together." She took his hand again, a little calmer. "There are things that make this relationship difficult, and we both may get hurt, but the way we feel about each other makes it worth taking that chance."

Hermione stood and moved to the other side of the table, sitting next to Severus, but still facing him. "Severus, promise me that from now on you'll talk to me if you're thinking these things. Don't ever just leave!"

Severus reached up to wipe the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. "I swear to you, Hermione. Never again."

And at last they kissed. The anger and hurt and despair of the last few days could not be melted away immediately, but it was a start. They held each other, and their breathing settled to a calm rhythm as the healing began.

For a long time, they sat with their heads resting together, listening to the muggle Christmas music playing on the radio. Eventually, Hermione drew a package from her pocket. It was wrapped in gray paper, with a silver bow, and she handed it to him with a soft "Merry Christmas, Severus."

He took it with a gentle smile and pulled at the ribbon. The wrapping fell open to reveal a book – black, with silver lettering on the cover. The title on the cover and spine read simply "For Severus". He opened it, and thumbed through the pages. On every sheet, in Hermione's neat hand, were poems and quotes from all kinds of different sources, both magical and muggle. He read the inscription on the first page aloud – "To my darling Severus, with all my love, Hermione."

"They're all things that seemed relevant to us," she smiled. "I've been writing them down for weeks."

Severus seemed to be lost for words. He closed his hands around the book, and stared at the lettering on the front, gently stroking it with his thumb. Dark eyes turned to her with love, and she kissed him. "I thought you'd like it!"

Reaching into his robes, Severus presented her with her own gift. Eagerly, she pulled open the wrappings to find a small blue box. As it lay in her palm, it opened of its own accord, and inside was the most beautiful and unusual pendant that Hermione had ever seen. It was in the shape of a potion bottle – the type that Severus used most often – made of gold, but with a diamond set in the top, as a stopper. The gold chain was fine, and she picked it up, allowing the pendant to dangle in front of her. Severus' fingers reached out to take it from her hand, and she turned her back to him so he could place it over her head and fasten the clasp at the back.

Again, she took it in her hand, and studied it. "Severus, the diamond is glowing!"

He smiled. "It will glow whenever we are together, my darling." As she gazed at it, she felt tears begin to prick at her eyes, and turned them towards his. Looking into those dark, expressive eyes, that she had once thought so cold, she kissed him.

With all of her attention focused on the man she loved, she did not notice as her parents walked hesitantly into the pub, and looked around for them. Their lips only parted once her parents had moved silently round the end of the bar, and stood facing them as they kissed.

"Hermione!"


	22. Overwhelmed

**Chapter 22 - Overwhelmed**

Hermione stood at the sound of her mother's voice. Severus was a little more hesitant, rising slowly to his feet at her side. For a second, Hermione seemed to see the scene through her parents' eyes, seeing a strange, much older wizard kissing their daughter. Oh, no. From their point of view, this probably did not look good.

Severus wore his customary black – not his teaching robes, but still clearly those of a wizard. He was not overly tall, but standing next to her, there was a considerable difference in their heights, which probably made the difference in their ages more apparent. Although he was younger than either of her parents, it was only by a few years, and his stern face and demeanor probably made him seem older to them than he really was. In a classroom, Professor Snape had always had a tremendous 'presence', and this was clear even in such a different situation as this. Students, including Hermione, had always found him intimidating and, although her parents had a totally different perspective, particularly in the current situation, she suspected that they found him just as much so. They had had very little contact with wizards, and to a couple of muggles, this dark figure must be a menacing sight.

They stared at him, and he gazed levelly back, his stance straight, and his head high. Hermione was used to his manner, but to her parents, he almost certainly seemed proud and aloof – maybe even disdainful of their lack of magic. Where she could see respect, determination and discomfort on his features, she knew that they would see only a scowl.

Her father finally spoke. "Is this the – boyfriend – you were telling us about, Hermione?"

Oh, God. This was not a good situation. How should she introduce him? Professor Snape? My Potions Master?

"This is Severus," she finally settled on. "Severus Snape. Erm – my parents."

It was such an awkward situation. So formal in the introductions, but with all parties cautious of the others, and no smiles or pleasantries exchanged. Severus twitched, as though beginning to offer his hand, but drew back quickly, and reached for Hermione's fingers instead, behind the folds of his robes.

When he spoke, it was with a soft voice, gentler than she had expected. "I apologize for you finding out about us like this. It must be rather a shock."

Hermione's father furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "I've heard that name before – but not in the context of a 'boyfriend'. We assumed it must be Harry. We didn't think anyone would mind us coming to say hello." He looked down, noticing the hands clasped together, then his eyes suddenly snapped back to Severus. "Snape – as in _Professor_ Snape?"

Severus bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed."

Now Hermione's mother stepped in. "Hermione! Youre involved with a teacher?" She sounded incredulous. "But ... wasn't he the teacher you always used to hate?"

Hermione glanced up at her lover, who raised an eyebrow – the only indication of a slight amusement on his otherwise unreadable features. Gallows humour, it seemed to her, but she couldn't help remembering that Harry had used the same words.

"Erm ... yes, but, it's a little different now," she stammered.

Her mother's eyes were stunned, hurt and angry. "So I see," she said, thinly.

There was a slight pause, then Hermione's father removed his hat and coat, dropping them on a seat. "Well, I suppose we'd better stick around and find out more about this." His voice was grim, but he seemed to be trying to stay calm and civil, for which Hermione was very grateful. Her mother, on the other hand, was looking hostilely at Severus as her husband gestured for her to sit down.

Hermione tried to lighten the tension a little. "Well, if we're going to talk, let's get some drinks." Severus half stood, but Hermione's father was already on his feet, and went to the bar, leaving his wife facing the lovers. She was very direct about her feelings.

"I'm disgusted that a teacher would act this way," she said, speaking directly to Severus. "You are in a position of trust and respect, and the fact that you would abuse that trust is appalling." She turned to Hermione. "Is this an example of the standard of behavior in your magic world?"

Severus spoke up. "I did not intend for this to happen, Mrs. Granger," he told her, defensively. "Neither of us did."

This did nothing to calm her. "What did you do to her?" she demanded. "You must have put her under some ... spell!"

"Mum!"

Severus used words that he thought would appease his love's mother, but Hermione cringed as he spoke, knowing that they would make matters worse. "Your daughter is a remarkably accomplished witch, Mrs. Granger," he informed her. "She would not be particularly susceptible to that kind of spell, even if I wanted to try."

Hermione's parents had always respected her decision to embrace her magic and make it her way of life. At first, they had even been encouraging and supportive, but for the last few years, although they would never actively discourage her, she knew that they were not comfortable with it. Their first real encounter with a wizard was with Arthur Weasley, whom they had liked very much and found to be very friendly, if a little overbearing with his persistent demands for information on lawnmowers and central heating. They had then witnessed a public brawl with an extremely unpleasant wizard, and had had to face a terrifying giant by the name of Haggard, or something. Since then, their daughter had been petrified, associated with murderers and werewolves, ridden dangerous flying beasts, almost drowned for some ridiculous game, and that was even before the events of the previous year, which they could barely even think about. Their faith in their daughter's new world had grown less and less, now reaching the point where, Hermione knew, Severus' description of her as an accomplished witch would not be appreciated.

Hermione's father returned from the bar with refills of Severus and Hermione's drinks, wine for his wife and whiskey for himself.

"How old are you, Professor?" he asked Severus sternly.

It suddenly occurred to Hermione that she had never asked him this. It had never seemed important. How old was he? He must be the same age as Harry's parents, so ...

"I am thirty-six," he replied. "I know that there is a big age gap between us, but it really does not seem to matter to either of us."

Hermione's mother was quite clear on her opinion on this point. "You're far too old for her," she said, as though there could be no other view on the matter. "You should be ashamed of yourself. She's only just gone seventeen."

Severus turned to Hermione. "When was your birthday?" With the realization that they had never discussed it, she also remembered that her own age was something of a complicated matter.

Both at the same time, Hermione said, "February", while her mother said "September."

Now Severus was extremely confused. "I did not realize I had asked a difficult question!" he said, puzzled.

"It's not difficult at all," snapped the older woman. She turned to her daughter. "You were born in September, therefore your birthday is September. There's nothing to discuss." Her husband's expression showed that this was a long-running debate, and he sighed resignedly.

Turning to Severus, Hermione explained. "It was a time turner – I used it in my third year to take extra classes," she said. "I clocked up seven extra months that year, so I'm seven months older than I should be." Her mother said nothing, but quietly fumed at this. "Instead of turning seventeen in September, I had already lived for seventeen years by February. It means that I'll be eighteen in a couple of months."

Severus stroked his chin, pensively, as he considered this. "I had no idea."

Unfortunately, Hermione's mother picked up on this, and turned it against him. "So you were carrying on with a student who you thought was ... what? ... sixteen?"

His response was calm. "As I said, Mrs. Granger, our ages really do not matter to us."

"Witches and wizards come of age at seventeen, anyway," said Hermione, "so I'm legally an adult, even without allowing for the time turner."

"That's ridiculous," her mother snapped. "You'll be an adult when you turn eighteen. Next September!"

Snape looked puzzled about this, and it was obvious that he was not aware of the muggle age of adulthood, but he said nothing.

Once again, Hermione's father spoke up. "Someone at the school is bound to find out about this eventually. What will happen then? I assume that you would be fired for having a relationship with a student," he looked at Snape, then at his daughter, "and you will be expelled."

Severus sighed. "The Headmaster knows," he said quietly, "and two of Hermione's friends, but that's all." He paused, wondering what their reaction would be about Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore does not approve of this by any means, but he does accept it and has agreed not to interfere."

Hermione's mother was outraged. "The headmaster of a school can accept this kind of behavior from a teacher?" she asked incredulously. "It is a disgrace that this could be allowed in a school!"

It was becoming obvious to Hermione that there was no way to resolve this at the moment … and probably there never would be. She was glad that her parents did not know the full story – of Severus' dark past, and his involvement with the events the previous year – that would have made things ten times worse. Severus controlled his temper but was irritated and defensive. Her father was concerned but quiet – seemingly resigned to accept the inevitable – but her mother was openly hostile. She would never be able to accept Severus, Hermione knew, and it was pointless ever to try to get any kind of peace between them. The best that she could hope for was – as Dumbledore had so succinctly described the relationship between Severus and Sirius – a lack of open hostility. But even that did not look promising right now, although she was relieved to note that Severus was trying his best.

Eventually, Hermione felt that she had to put a stop to things. "Look, it's late," she said. "Aunt Rose and everyone else will be wondering where we've all got to."

But what should she do? It was either back to her aunt's place, where Severus would most definitely not be welcome, or leave now, and go with Severus. She took a deep breath and made her decision. "I think it's best if I go back to Hogwarts, tonight," she said.

Snape looked at her in surprise, but she silenced him with a glance. She could hardly tell them that she was going off to his house in the wilderness for the rest of the holidays!

They all stood. Snape clearly felt that there was one thing he needed to say before they could all part for the night. "Mrs. Granger. – Mr. Granger – I know that this has been a strange night, and that your daughter's relationship with me must be a shock to you, but please understand one thing. I love your daughter. There is nothing more important to me than she. Whatever you think of me – that much you cannot challenge."

Hermione watched her parents' reactions carefully. Her father seemed surprised but accepting, while her mother tensed at the words – skeptical and mistrusting. Both reactions were as expected, but Hermione could not help but feel that it was just one more nail in the coffin of her relationship with her parents. She caught herself as the thought entered her mind, and berated herself for it. For more than five years, she had spent most of her life away from her parents. Her world had changed, while theirs, her influence aside, had not. It was inevitable that they would drift apart, but it was crucial that she did not allow this to become a rift. Nothing should separate her from them permanently. They were her parents, and she loved them dearly.

As her parents left the pub, she hung back to speak to Severus alone. "I'll pack up my things and be back in about an hour," she told him. "I didn't mean it about Hogwarts, by the way. I want to see your home!"

Briefly, he kissed her and released her, and she set off after her parents. More than anything, she wanted to settle into Severus' arms and sleep. This had been a long night!

It was slightly less than an hour later when Hermione, disgruntled and annoyed, arrived back at the Star and Spell, her small case in hand.

She kissed Severus, fiercely, then muttered, "Let's go."

* * *

Getting back to Severus' home was not quite the easy trip for which Hermione had hoped. The first part was easy enough, with a step into the fireplace at The Star and Spell.

"The Happy Kneazle," she said clearly, and stepped out a moment later into a very different pub. This was quite clearly a wizarding pub, she noted, as a house-elf rushed forward to help her from the fireplace, take her cloak and offer her a drink. She cringed at the sight, and firmly declined all offers of help. Severus stepped out of the fire behind her, carrying her case. A sudden thought occurred to Hermione, and she turned to him. "Severus," she asked, "you don't have a house-elf, do you?"

He regarded her solemnly. "Two of them," he told her, "but I locked them in the basement over Christmas, so you would not have to see them."

It took her a moment to see the slightest of twitches at the corner of his mouth, and she shook her head impatiently. Despite her joy at being with Severus, the argument with her parents had left her strained and irritable. Now was not a good time for Severus to develop a sense of humor!

Knowing that her bad mood was aimed at her parents, not at him, she forced herself to take a deep breath.

His hand reached out to her face, and she had to stop herself from flinching irritably at the touch. His expression was concerned. "I am sorry, Hermione," he said. "Bad joke! Don't worry, we do not have far to fly – we will be there soon, and we can relax."

Fly? Oh, God. She hoped that this was another bad joke! He saw her reaction, and looked worried.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Tears of frustration and tension were beginning to well up inside her, and she fought to keep them back. "I don't fly well."

For a long moment he stood looking at her, head tilted to one side, then he stooped to put the case down and reached out to pull her into his arms. Her breathing was ragged as she buried her face into his warm chest. Strong arms were around her, and a hand was stroking her hair. She felt a kiss on the top of her head, and he gently rocked her in his embrace.

When he spoke, his voice was a soothing whisper. "It's okay, my darling," he said softly. "We will take a carriage." She hugged him, thankfully, feeling embarrassed and foolish for being so upset, but he seemed to understand. It was not often that she felt so young – especially with Severus – but right now she felt like a child and was content, for once, to have him take care of her.

A few moments later a carriage, summoned by the house-elf, was pulling up outside the door to The Happy Kneazle and she allowed herself to be led inside. There, the emotions of the night finally overwhelmed her, and she curled up in Severus' arms and cried. She hadn't realized quite how much the night had disturbed her until she had seen herself reacting so badly to little things like Severus' attempt at humour. She knew that he was puzzled at her behavior, but she could offer no rational explanation. Unable to think straight about anything, she simply cried, letting his strength support her, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

* * *

Severus looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. She had been through quite an ordeal lately – first his own terrible treatment of her, then his unbelievably stupid return, which had forced her into a confrontation with her parents that she had clearly not been ready for. He should have done as she had asked in her letter, and told her where he was – let her come to meet him somewhere, instead of throwing himself into the midst of her family Christmas!

The journey by ground was a long one. There was no direct route through the forests, and they had to go a circuitously long way round, taking more than an hour, rather than the ten-minute flight he would have preferred. Hermione had cried herself to sleep more than half an hour ago, and now lay, restless and breathing heavily, across his lap. He had wrapped his cloak around them both, and held her tenderly, stroking her hair with his fingers. He had never seen her look so young.

He smiled as she sighed deeply and snuggled closer to him in her sleep. She was by no means a child, and he could never see her as such, but he found it almost comforting to see that she had her moments of weakness, as he did. There had been times in their relationship when their roles had been reversed – where he had felt the need of her support and strength – and it seemed only right that he should be able to do the same for her.

The carriage began to slow, and he finally dragged his eyes away from her face. Trying not to wake her, he carefully took her weight in his arms and slipped to the ground, her suitcase magically following. A nod sent the driverless and horseless vehicle on its way, and another opened the door to his home. The imagery was not lost on him as he carried her through the doorway. Taking her up the stairs, he laid her on his bed, then turned to conjure a fire in the grate.

Gently, he removed as much of her clothing as he could without waking her, then his own, and positioned himself close against her back.

As he lay next to her, he felt a sigh pass though his whole body. Finally, she was here. He laughed softly at himself – it was not quite the scene of passion and lust that he had imagined for their first night here, but it was still such a wonderful feeling that he could feel his heart beating fast in his chest and his stomach knotting inside him.

He pulled a blanket over them both and drew her close, snuggling against her warm body, and held her as she slept. Not feeling sleepy himself, he contentedly lay with her in his arms and eventually, despite his racing mind, her rhythmic breathing lulled him into a sleep of his own.


	23. Haven

**Chapter 23 - Haven**

Hermione woke feeling relaxed and comfortable. Severus' breath was warm on her neck, and his arm was wrapped protectively around her waist. She thought back to last night - how she had cried for so long in the carriage and eventually fallen asleep. Vague memories came back to her of being carried to Severus' bed, and his comforting presence while she slept. She still didn't fully understand why the events last night had affected her so emotionally – she had had plenty of arguments with her parents before – but she felt better for her outburst. She felt refreshed and rejuvenated.

In fact, she thought with a smile, I feel wonderful.

Very slowly, so as not to wake Severus, she took his arm from around her waist, and slipped out from under the blanket. He was naked, as he usually slept, but she was still almost fully clothed – clearly, he had not wanted to disturb her last night – and she now removed her muggle clothing leaving it crumpled on the floor. Without her next to him, Severus sighed and rolled onto his back. She smiled at the sight of his obvious early-morning erection under the blanket.

God, she loved him! The thought came out of nowhere, wanting to make her laugh out loud with happiness. Forcing herself to stay silent, she reached out to pull the blanket from him. Naked, she lay beside him, studying his body with a smile. Reaching out to him, she gently stroked him with her fingertips, then slowly moved to touch him with her lips.

Planting tiny kisses along the length of his hardness, she ran her tongue to the tip, and felt him twitch under her touch. Pulling back slightly, she blew a warm breath over him, enjoying feeling her own excitement rise with every moment. Again, the twitch. She looked up to his face and saw a smile at the corner of his lips. He was only pretending to be asleep.

"Severus," she accused. "You're awake!"

He did not open his eyes, but his smile grew wider. "Of course," he said with a smirk. "I have been awake since you first got off the bed."

Giggling, Hermione threw herself up the bed. He groaned as she landed on him, pinning him down. "Sneak!" she accused.

"Well, you seemed to be having so much fun!"

She was straddling him, and leaned forward to kiss him deeply. Wriggling, she moved herself down his body until she felt him at her entrance. She was excited by their playfulness – wet and ready for him – and she could feel him pressing towards her. His hands moved to her hips, trying to push her down onto him.

"So you want me, do you?" she asked him with a giggle. The response was a throaty growl. "Are you growling at me, Severus?"

"You know I am," he rumbled, "and you know I do!"

This game was fun, but teasing him was just as tough on herself, and she eventually had to give in to what her body wanted to do. "Then I guess I'd better do this!" She rolled her hips, and slid herself onto him, sitting fully upright to use her weight, and allowing his hands on her hips to increase the pressure. After all that time apart – the tears, the sleepless nights – it felt so wonderful to feel him inside her once again. Moving her body rhythmically, she felt his hips pushing up against her – pushing himself into her. She pushed back as hard as she could. She wanted this so much – his touch – his beautiful body with hers – his hardness deep within her. As she climaxed, she threw her head back, gripping his arms with her fingers, and calling his name. A moment later, and his powerful thrusts became deeper and more intense, and she felt his release inside her. Their bodies were shaking, and neither of them moved.

"Hermione, that was so beautiful!" he murmured through heavy breaths.

Keeping him inside her for as long as possible, she fell forward onto him, and their sweating bodies held each other. They kissed. "I think I'm going to like staying here," she smiled.

* * *

"So why aren't you on the Floo Network?"

Hermione and Snape had taken a moment to sit down on their long walk, and gaze across the lake back towards the house. He was telling her about its history, about how long he'd owned it, about the grounds and the lake, and about how he had come to know it by the simple name of "Haven".

"I do not get many visitors," he told her, "and don't usually want them. Anyway – I like to fly!"

Hermione turned to him, thinking about her overreaction to the thought of flying the night before. "Sorry about last night!"

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said softly. "I am the one who made a mess of things, showing up like that."

Hermione gave a snort of annoyance. "It's not your fault that my parents are narrow-minded and unreasonable," she muttered. "They had to know some time, Severus, and there wasn't an easy way to tell them. That was as good a way for them to find out as any!"

He seemed concerned about this. "I knew that your parents did not understand, but I had no idea that things were so bad. I suppose from their point of view, I could not be any worse – being so much older than you, and a wizard, and a teacher!"

"It was quite funny when my Dad asked how old you were, and I suddenly realized that I didn't know, myself!"

Snape frowned. "Nineteen years is a big age gap. By the time you are thirty, I will be almost fifty!"

Hermione couldn't help laughing. "I thought that our ages weren't important!" she teased. She suddenly turned serious, thinking of something. "So, I guess that means – " her stomach gave a jolt and she hesitated. " ... I guess we're thinking of 'us' as a long term thing, then!"

Severus' eyes met hers, completely serious. "I cannot stand to think about a day of my life without you!"

He leaned forward to kiss her, but she put a hand on his chest and held him back. "But ... you left me, Severus."

The pain on his face was unbearable, but Hermione fought against her reaction to pull him close to her. His eyes closed, and his head tilted back. She waited while he took a deep breath, then forced his eyes back to hers.

"Hermione," he said, hoarsely, "the reasons that I left still apply. This relationship will be difficult. It kills me to think of you going through the hardships and pain that may be an inevitable result of being in a relationship that so many people will disapprove of. I have been willing to take that chance since the very beginning, and it was wrong of me to try to make that decision for you.

She had heard his reasons for leaving in the pub the night before, but somehow had needed to hear them again. Needed to know that he meant them and that he knew how much it had hurt her when he left. "Promise me, Severus – that you'll never shut me out like that again." She knew that things could go wrong in a relationship – that 'forevers', however wonderful they sounded, could not always be real – but the thought of being shut out of a decision like that, especially one that was made to protect her, was agonizing.

Hands reached to cup her face, and his eyes burned with pain and regret. "I swear it," he whispered. "And I mean it when I say I cannot bear the thought of living without you. I am not just thinking about when you're thirty – I'm thinking about when we are both old!"

"Well, you're getting close to forty. That's practically ancient." Hermione couldn't resist the teasing comment, but her lover's eyes were still serious. He kissed her then stood, pulling her to her feet.

"I might remind you, Ms. Granger," he told her in a low voice, "that, despite the fact that this is the holidays, I could still deduct points from Gryffindor for insolence like that!"

She matched her tone to his, and played along. "Sorry, Professor Snape. " Then, slyly, "Wouldn't you prefer to give me a detention?" He narrowed his eyes and growled at her, then they continued on their walk in silence for a while.

The December sky was overcast and gray, but the air was crisp and they could see for a long way as they walked. There were several points where half-frozen small streams ran into or out of the lake, and one spot where the water was shallow but wide, and they had to go a long way into the woods to reach an area of natural stepping-stones where they could cross.

"Speaking of school, Ms. Granger," Severus began suddenly, "and ... I have had an idea." He squeezed her hand as they walked. "You are not quite as much of a dunderhead as my other students, and it might make things easier on us both, and perhaps on Professor Dumbledore, if you were to take your Potions N.E.W.T. a year early."

Hermione turned to him in surprise. It was an amazing idea! "Do you think I'll be ready?" she asked, excited at the prospect, but aware of the amount of extra work involved.

He answered her with a question. "What would be the effect of adding Hupcus Root to a sleeping draught?"

She thought for a moment, then answered, "It would counteract the soothing agents, and probably produce terrible nightmares."

"Very good. What would be the most likely antidote to a poison using a natural snake venom as the main ingredient?"

Again, some thought, then, "Use the same venom, but prepare a mixture using equal amounts of a reversing agent, such as powdered Fwooper feathers, or gnome skin."

The Potions Master regarded his student with interest. "Those are not things I have taught you, Hermione," he told her. "They are things you had to deduce from your knowledge of the properties of each substance." Hermione couldn't help but glow at his praise. "You are more ready than many of my final year class."

They discussed the subject as they walked, and Hermione became more and more convinced of the merits of the idea, and of her own ability to do well in the exam. They agreed that Severus would ask the headmaster's permission and, of course, the Head of Gryffindor house would need to approve. Hermione also insisted that Severus arrange for someone else to mark her paper. He would be completely objective, naturally, but that would be difficult for others to accept, once everything came out in the open.

It was in the middle of all this discussion about Potions that Hermione suddenly stopped dead. Severus' face mirrored the worry on hers as he asked quickly what was wrong. She couldn't speak for a moment, then, "Severus – the spell. The one that the founders put on the school …" She didn't need to say more – by the look on Severus' face, she knew he had understood. Clearly, he had given the need for contraception just as little thought as she.

It was a tense moment, but Hermione felt an instant of half guilt, half puzzlement, that her reaction was not the overwhelming panic that she somehow felt she should feel. Slowly Snape drew her to him and they stood, their arms around each other, as they both considered the implications. The warmth of Severus' body was solid and comforting as they stood in that gentle embrace.

After several minutes' silence, he told her softly, "I can create a potion that will take care of it for while we're here. As for this morning … I do not think there is anything to be done about that. We will just have to wait."

He pulled back slightly and kissed her, then they fell back into their silent embrace for a while longer. When they continued walking, each felt that there had been much more unspoken about the subject than spoken, but neither could seem to put it into words.

As Hermione took the small vial to her lips several hours later, she smiled at him. "I don't ever remember drinking a potion you've prepared, before," she told him. "I just hope that you're as good a potion-brewer as you are a theorist and teacher!"

He reached out to take the empty tube from her as she screwed up her face at the foul taste. "Well, it is not a potion I am too familiar with, but you will probably survive!" He pulled her into his arms, and kissed her, tasting the remnants of the potion on her lips. Then, without warning, he scooped her up into his arms. "And now that you have drunk it," he continued, "it would seem a shame not to take advantage!"

* * *

Neither of them mentioned their carelessness throughout the rest of the Christmas holiday, although it was on each of their minds often during the time. Both were resolved to wait to find out the consequences, and in the meantime, they reflected on the possibilities with mixed feelings. Neither felt that it was likely that Hermione was pregnant though could not explain why, nor their reluctance to discuss the subject in too much depth.

These thoughts aside, the holidays were wonderful for both of them. Many hours were spent walking in the snow, or sitting by the fire, talking or reading.

It's such a peaceful, quiet house, Hermione thought happily as she snuggled in her lover's arms. This is the perfect place to get away from everything.

By the time they had to leave to return to Hogwarts, Hermione felt that Severus' home was the most wonderful place she had ever seen. The atmosphere totally absorbed her, and she could have happily stayed there forever.

Their last night together in their sanctuary was pure magic – an evening walk in silvery moonlight and a relaxed supper by the fire. Making love in Severus' large bed was at once tender and loving, but intense and passionate. They lay together afterwards, holding each other close – warm bodies pressed together, and hearts joined.

As they drifted into sleep, Hermione heard Severus' mumbled voice. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Have I ever mentioned that I love you?"

She nuzzled her head into his shoulder. "Once or twice."

"Just checking." She was almost asleep when his voice came again. "You know, whatever happens …" he placed a hand on her stomach, "... it will be okay!"

Placing a hand on his, she murmured. "I love you, Severus."

They slept.

* * *

"Crookshanks!" Hermione threw herself at the ball of fur that was waiting for her on her return. She had intended to take him with her for Christmas, but with the events that had happened just before she left, she had decided to leave him with her friends.

Ron and Harry jumped up to welcome her as she stepped into the Gryffindor common room.

"You're earlier than we expected," said Ron. "The train won't arrive until tonight. Crookshanks seemed to know you were coming, though. He woke us both up early and has been prowling ever since!"

Hermione and Severus had arrived back at Hogwarts at around breakfast time, the day before school started again, having traveled by coach then Floo Powder. She knew that this would probably need some explanation for her friends, and now was as good a time as any . She dropped into a chair. Crookshanks jumped onto her lap and she sat stroking him as she told them about Severus' arrival in the village where her aunt lived, and their stay at the aptly named "Haven". She had never told them that their original plan was to spend the whole holiday together, and left them to assume that she had always intended to spend Christmas with her family. Apart from this, the only thing she left out was the worry about their carelessness on the day after Christmas. She didn't quite feel ready to have a conversation about contraception with her two friends, nor to force them to confront the fact that she and Severus were sleeping together.

On hearing Snape's suggestion that she take her Potions N.E.W.T. a year early, they were at first skeptical on the grounds that she would probably overwork herself to prepare for it, but gradually came round to the idea. They didn't seem to think that there was much that would improve the teacher / student situation between herself and Snape, but she was so keen on the idea that they could hardly disapprove.

They were also very interested in the argument with her parents and, although she knew that they felt for her, she knew they couldn't help also siding somewhat with her parents' point of view. Well – they were entitled to their opinion, she thought, as long as they also respected her privacy and her right to love whomever she chose. In a sudden fit of emotion she hugged each of them for their understanding and left them standing in the common room, a little puzzled. She headed to her room to unpack her case,which she had reluctantly agreed to allow Zecky to take to her dorm.

* * *

Malcolm Baddock listened to Potter and Weasley as he walked behind them on the way towards the Great Hall for lunch. He was curious about why Granger wasn't with them, and managed to overhear Weasley say something about her eating lunch in her dorm. He knew that the boys, like he and his brother, had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays - something to do with Weasley's parents going to visit one of the older brothers for Christmas - but Granger had not. He also knew that she was now back in the castle.

He was still puzzling over what he had seen that morning. He had been late for breakfast and heading out of the dungeon when he had seen her. Something about her cautiousness as she looked around her had caught his attention and he had sunk back into the shadows to watch her. She had come from the potions corridor and headed up the stairs, giving the clear impression that she did not want to be seen.

The train had not yet arrived, bringing back the students who had left for the holidays, and he was certain that the Gryffindor had not been there over Christmas. And now she was eating lunch in private, as though she didn't want anyone to know she was back in the castle.

He headed towards the almost empty Slytherin table and glanced up at the staff. Most of the teachers had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, with the unusual exception of Snape who was now back in his seat, talking with McGonagall. He had never heard of the Potions Master leaving Hogwarts at Christmas or any other holiday.

Baddock considered this information and an unlikely but intriguing idea began to occur to him. As his Slytherin mind considered the possibilities, his lips began to form a contemplative smile.


	24. Questions

**Chapter 24 - Questions**

Most of the first few days of term were spent catching up on all the events of the Christmas holidays. Hermione learned all about Ron and Harry's efforts to find the hidden tunnels, which had been discouraging. After exploring the dungeon from corner to corner, they were beginning to believe that the legend of tunnels to caverns under the lake was simply fantasy.

"You give up too easily," Hermione told them. "If you've explored everywhere, then maybe there's more magic concealing the entrance - something we haven't tried yet. It has to be documented somewhere."

But neither of the boys looked particularly keen on the idea of more research. "The only area we've not been back to fifteen times," Ron told her, "is where we saw the Bloody Baron, and if that's where it is, I'm not so sure I want to find it!"

They also told Hermione about their exploits with Marmaduke.

"It was Crookshanks who eventually got it out from under Hagrid's bed," Harry explained. "Came down to Hagrid's with us, went straight towards the bed, and Marmaduke ran for the door! It was so fast that we still couldn't tell what it was. Hagrid was really upset about it – kept looking outside and worrying about where 'poor Marm' was going to sleep that night!"

Hermione laughed. "I bet Fang was happy, though!"

Ron snorted. "Yeah! When we finally got the great coward to come out of hiding. He's more scared of Crookshanks than he was of Marmaduke!"

It was pleasant to spend time with her friends. Lately, even before Christmas, Hermione had been spending so much time with Severus, that she had missed them. Whatever happened between herself and her lover, she was determined that nothing should spoil the friendships that she had developed over the past five years with Ron and Harry. They had been through a lot together and they were two of the most wonderful and kind people she knew.

As she sat laughing with them in the common room, she made herself a new year's resolution – to make certain that nothing could come between them.

* * *

"Midget Gems!"

Snape had never quite understood the headmaster's fascination with muggle confectionary and always found the passwords to his office difficult to remember. This had been his third attempt at remembering the name of Dumbledore's latest favourite, and much to his relief the entrance gave way to him.

At the top of the stairs he knocked, entering when he heard the headmaster's voice.

"Ah, Severus! Come in. Come in! Have a Midget Gem." He offered Snape a small bag, which was politely refused.

The Potions Master sat, at Professor Dumbledore's gesture towards a chair, and came straight to the point. "Headmaster, I would like to make a request – to allow Hermione Granger to take her Potions N.E.W.T. a year early." His piece said, he then waited in silence for a response.

The older wizard was rummaging in the bag of sweets and it took a few minutes for him to answer, although whether this was because he was considering the request carefully or simply trying to find his favourite colour was not quite clear. Finally, he gave a simple "I see!" Severus once again waited.

At last, Dumbledore popped a green sweet into his mouth and sat back in his chair, hands clasped on the desk in front of him, gazing thoughtfully at the teacher. When he spoke, it was not about the exam.

"You left the school rather suddenly at the end of term, Severus," he said. "I assume that the fact that you have had the opportunity to discuss this with the young lady in question means that your premature departure from the school was a 'misunderstanding'."

Snape gave a single nod, reluctant to discuss his motives in too much detail.

Dumbledore clearly expected more than this, but when it was clear that it would not be forthcoming, he continued. "I was under the impression that Miss Granger went home for Christmas."

"Her plans changed, headmaster," Snape's tone was low and guarded – a fact that did not seem to go unnoticed.

"I see." He sighed. "This must put her in an awkward situation with her parents. If they knew ... "

Snape interrupted him, quietly. "They know," he rumbled, frowning at the memory.

The details of the conversation were not important but Snape gave Dumbledore the gist of the dialogue. Throughout the explanation the headmaster looked more and more concerned. It did not surprise him that Hermione's parents had not contacted him to complain. For several years, he had suspected that the girl's parents' feelings about the wizarding world were less than warm, so it was no shock that they placed little faith in the results of a complaint to the headmaster of Hogwarts.

Standing, he began to pace up and down his office. "I don't like this situation, Severus. It is a mess, and I am beginning to regret my decision not to step in earlier and put a stop to this."

Snape did not give him the opportunity to continue. "With respect, Headmaster," he said softly but firmly, "you would be unable to put a stop to it. If forced to choose between Hermione and my job, I would leave the school."

Dumbledore stopped and regarded the wizard on the other side of the desk. He considered him for a long time, then nodded resignedly.

"I hope that this sudden wish for Miss Granger to take her exam early is not so that you can make your relationship public once you are no longer her teacher."

Snape started. "I have no desire for my private life to become a public concern!' he growled. "But even without making this public, surely you agree that it would make the situation less … problematic?"

The headmaster was not easily swayed. "She will still be a student at this school. Whether you are her teacher or not will make little difference."

Dumbledore began to pace once again, and Snape waited in silence. Finally, the suggestion seemed to have been considered and Dumbledore turned.

"I will allow Miss Granger to take her exam early, Severus, as I believe that she is more than capable of it. However, I must remind you of the importance of keeping your relationship private." He fixed Snape with a penetrating gaze, regarding him for a long moment, then sat once again at his desk. "I will bring up the subject with Minerva – her permission, as head of Gryffindor, will be required for Hermione to take the N.E.W.T. early."

Snape stood. "Thank you, Headmaster. I will inform Ms. Granger."

Once outside the door, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. Things between himself and Dumbledore were definitely strained lately and he knew that he was putting the wizard in a difficult situation. It was not a comfortable state of affairs but it could not be helped. Hermione was his love – his life – and well worth a few strained relationships!

* * *

Snape closed his book and rose from his armchair. Hermione had homework to finish and had decided to stay in the Gryffindor tower that night, so he had spent a solitary evening reading. Until a few months ago, that had been a normal evening for him and he had never expected or wanted it to be any other way, but now it was something he rarely did. He still spent many evenings reading, of course, but now when he settled into his armchair with a book there was usually someone to share the pleasure with.

He smiled. Such a change in his life, in such a short time. While he could enjoy an occasional evening of solitude, he thought with regret about the cold, empty bed he was heading to. A single night without her warm body next to his felt lonely. Making love with her was wonderful, of course, but spending the entire night with her warm body next to his gave him a feeling of peace and security that he could not put into words.

Sighing, he entered his bedroom and stopped dead. That damned cat! It was curled up on the middle of his bed as though it was supposed to be there. How in the name of Slytherin had it got into his rooms?

With a grunt of anger, he reached for his wand and poked it with the tip. The cat woke, jumped up and glared at him.

"Get off my bed, cat," he barked at it.

The cat took a swift jump down and headed towards the door, looking back at him expectantly as though telling the human to hurry up and let him out.

"Mangy furball," Snape snarled as he opened the door and aimed a kick at the animal. He missed and slammed the door behind it before heading back to his empty bedroom.

* * *

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the common room. "Finally," he told Harry and Hermione, "I've got my project outlines handed in. Just dropped them off at the staffroom."

Hermione gave him a long-suffering look of 'well you should have finished before Christmas', but wisely managed to avoid saying it aloud.

"It's not my fault," Ron countered, noticing the look. "I just about had it ready, but I wanted to add in the extra information about dragon eggs I got in my last letter from Charlie!"

Harry tossed him a chocolate frog. "I'm not sure that encouraging Hagrid is the right thing to do!" he laughed. "He'll probably have another go at getting Dumbledore to let you have a real dragon!"

"Probably!" Ron quickly grabbed his frog as it tried to jump over his shoulder. "By the way, Hermione, I ran into Ginny on the way to the staffroom. It looks like Alistair Baddock hasn't given up on you yet!"

Hermione was puzzled by this news. She hadn't seen much of Alistair, but he had managed to smile a 'hi' as they had passed in the corridor the other day. "Why, what have you heard?"

"Well, nothing about Alistair, actually, but Ginny says his little brother was asking about you!" Ron relayed Ginny's account of the conversation. Malcolm had approached her in the library, and been very friendly ("Which is suspicious in itself," said Ron), asking her about her Christmas, whether she had spent it with her family – whether Ron, Harry and Hermione had gone home. Ginny had been very wary of the Slytherin, but he had seemed friendly enough, so she'd tried to be pleasant. She had got the feeling, according to Ron, that Malcolm had been asking on his brother's behalf.

Naturally, Ginny knew nothing about Hermione's real reason for not wanting to go out with Alistair, and had seen no reason to be too evasive. "Alistair's a nice guy," she had told her brother. "I don't really understand why he's in Slytherin, although with Malcolm it's obvious. He gives me the creeps!"

Hermione didn't understand why Malcolm would be asking about her when she had already told Alistair she was seeing someone else. "I wonder why Alistair would get his brother to do that?" she asked her friends. "I hope he's not still thinking I might go out with him, because it's not going to happen!" But, no – Alistair had seemed okay about things when they had passed each other a few days earlier – it was probably nothing. She dismissed the conversation as nothing to worry about, and thought no more about it.

She had other things on her mind than whatever Alistair Baddock's little brother was up to. She had made up her mind, the day term started again, that she did not want to wait to find out if the Christmas carelessness would have serious repercussions, and had determined to go to see Madam Pomfrey.

Several times since making that decision she had headed in the direction of the Hospital Wing, but each time it seemed to be crowded. It was crucial that no-one know she had even been there, as it would not take long for Ron and Harry to put two and two together.

It was a few days after returning to school that Hermione finally got the chance to talk to the matron. Cautiously, she stepped inside the Hospital Wing and looked around, checking that no-one was around.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from where she was tidying the shelves of spare sheets and pillows, and smiled as she entered. "Miss Granger. I've not seen you for a while – come in!"

Hermione gave her a half smile, which the matron interpreted correctly as troubled. "I wanted to ask for your advice, Madam Pomfrey," she said quietly.

The older witch's manner was immediately kind, but business-like. "Then why don't we step into my office?" Once seated, she continued, facing Hermione, "Now what can I do to help you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath. Madam Pomfrey was always discreet, but there was still a part of the student that was nervous about saying this to a teacher. What if this got out? But, reflected Hermione, if she told anyone it would probably be Professor Dumbledore and he already knows more than Madam Pomfrey does.

Now that she was faced with the possibility of a quick and definite answer to her question, she also found herself extremely nervous about hearing the truth. Either result would have its own implications, and she was not entirely sure how she felt about them. Her mind was telling her that having a baby would be disastrous with exams coming up – whether this year or next – and at her young age. There was also a part of her, though, that couldn't help liking the idea of having Severus' baby. It was a possibility that she hadn't wanted to think about too much – it was an entirely emotional response, and she was more used to logic and thought – but now that she was face to face with Madam Pomfrey it was forced to the front of her mind. What answer was she hoping for, she wondered?

Well, you're not going to find out if you don't ask, she chided herself. Just do it, and deal with the answer one way or another.

Resolved, she spoke. "I think I might be pregnant," she said simply


	25. Help from a House Elf

**Chapter 25** **-** **Help from a House Elf**

Snape had never enjoyed the few days after Christmas. The excitement of the holidays took a long time to wear off, and the students were always restless. With his strict teaching style he had no trouble in subduing them, of course, but getting their minds truly on their work was no easy task. This year found him almost as distracted as the students. He thought of the holidays; his terrible days alone, the letter from Hermione, their perfect time together and, naturally, the still unanswered question of whether or not Hermione was pregnant. Not a state of mind particularly conducive, he thought, to driving home the finer principles of the delicate art of potion making to a bunch of adolescent incompetents! It was only his strong will and self-control that enabled him to keep his mind on his work.

Several floors above her lover's classroom, Hermione was facing a serious looking Madam Pomfrey.

"Pregnant, Hermione?" the witch was asking her, surprised. "I admit that you are not someone I would have expected to be having this conversation with." Hermione said nothing and Madam Pomfrey continued. "When do you think it might have happened?"

Hermione told her that it had been on the day after Christmas. It suddenly occurred to her that the Matron did not know that she knew about the spell on Hogwarts, and it was crucial that she play along and pretend to be ignorant of this. Only a teacher could have told her, so she had to keep this information to herself.

The inevitable lecture began, as Madam Pomfrey stood to rummage in a cupboard for something. It was all the things that Hermione had expected – relationships not to be taken lightly, should wait, if possible, take appropriate precautions if you must, disappointed in Hermione's carelessness, usually such a sensible girl – and she listened on the grounds that she had little choice. Throughout the lecture, Hermione was more interested in watching the matron than listening to her. She eventually found a small box which she brought back to the desk with her. She took out what looked like an old fashioned watch on a chain and dangled it in front of her, then she instructed the girl to lay on the little table she had in the office. Holding the device above Hermione's stomach, she muttered a complex spell, the words of which Hermione could not pick out.

Hermione held her breath as the 'watch' was held for several minutes, then examined carefully. At Madam Pomfrey's instruction, she sat up and returned to her chair by the desk. Madam Pomfrey sat opposite her, a somber expression on her face.

"Well, Hermione," she began. "I'm sure you will be pleased to know that you are not pregnant."

It took a moment for Hermione fully to register this information. Not pregnant! The emotions that hit her were unclear, but the overwhelming feeling she got was simply that, good or bad, at least now she knew

Thanking Madam Pomfrey, Hermione got up to leave, but the matron had other plans. Because the spell around Hogwarts was totally secret, there was no way that Madam Pomfrey could tell Hermione about it, so the girl realized that they would both have to keep up the pretence. The lecture was far from over, and it was almost another half hour before Hermione was finally able to escape. For a moment, her guard had almost slipped when she was asked what form of protection had been used except for the day when they 'forgot'. She had been on the point of saying that they had prepared a potion, but the matron would know that the potions were difficult, and that not all of the ingredients were easily available. Thinking quickly, Hermione did the best thing all round, and told the older witch that that had been the only time, and that he wasn't even a Hogwarts student. This seemed both to pacify her a little and worry her at the same time – on the one hand, there was relief that the student was not in an ongoing sexual relationship, but this also implied that the event had been entered into without much thought or even in a steady relationship.

Finally, Hermione managed to escape the Hospital Wing, and her feet led her straight to the dungeon.

* * *

Snape held the woman he loved in his arms, and kissed the top of her head. She was trembling, and he embraced her tightly, as though trying to absorb the shakes into himself. She wasn't pregnant. She had arrived ten minutes earlier, and headed straight for his arms. The news had been whispered into his chest, and since then they had remained together, simply holding each other.

The relief was strong. He had been so worried for her; now was not the time for her to get pregnant. She had exams coming up, whether in a few months or a year, and with the problems with her parents, her friends, the fact that they were still loving each other in secret, it would have been all wrong. No, not wrong – there would have been something perfectly right about Hermione carrying his child - but not now.

Lovingly, he stroked her back, enjoying the feeling as she relaxed into him. It was only now that he had heard the news that he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders and realized how much of his restlessness had been due to this uncertainty.

"Someday, Hermione, we are going to have beautiful children," he whispered gently, "but it will be when the time is right." He felt her nod against his chest, and sighed deeply.

* * *

The beginning of the new year was unusual for the Potions Master in another way as well. He had never been in the habit of celebrating his birthday, but following the discussion about their ages at Christmas, Hermione had insisted on knowing the date. January 9th was only a few days after the start of term and this time the date would not go unnoticed. As his birthday fell on a Thursday, they both had lessons, but had arranged to spend the evening having a romantic dinner in his rooms.

He woke that morning with her warm body pressed against his.

"Happy Birthday, Severus," she smiled as they lay together.

"Maybe I should send a message to the Headmaster to say that I am sick and need to spend the day in bed," he murmured, lazily.

Hermione laughed. "That would be very un-Snape-like," she said. "It's possible that Dumbledore would be suspicious."

"Then we should get moving and make up for the missed time this evening."

* * *

Despite finally being forced to accept that house elves did not want to be freed, Hermione was still never comfortable in asking them to work. At some point, she hoped to be able to make a difference in their lives by making sure that all were fairly treated, but for now her aim was simply not to add to their burdens. For Severus' birthday, however, she realized that if she wanted to do something special, she would need Zecky's assistance.

"Miss Granger would like Zecky to help arrange a surprise for Master Snape?" he asked. "Zecky would be happy to help!"

She had not spoken to the elf very much until now, due to Severus' preference to use the elf's services sparingly, and it surprised and pleased her to find out that he was not as fawning as most of them. His manners were polite and cheerful without obsequiousness; a welcome change from her dealings with other elves.

It did not take long for them to make their plans. All Hermione had to do was to keep her lover away from his rooms for a little while before supper.

* * *

Over the Christmas holidays, Snape and Hermione had become accustomed to taking long walks through the woods each day. At school this was more difficult, so he was happy when she suggested a walk in the grounds. By the time they returned, their cheeks were red from both the exercise and the biting air.

The spell they used in the grounds allowed them to walk unseen by others and leave no footprints, but let them see each other as long as they held hands. Reaching the castle, however, Hermione switched to a disillusionment charm as she followed in the wake of the teacher.

"Severus," called out a voice as they headed towards the dungeon, "Pomona and I are just about to have a drink before dinner. Will you join us? I hear that it's your birthday!"

The Potions Master turned towards the tiny form of Professor Flitwick.

"Thank you, Filius," he said stiffly, "but I do not celebrate my birthday. I will not be attending dinner in the Great Hall tonight, as I have work to do. Good evening."

Flitwick sighed and shook his head as the tall wizard strode on his way, followed by an unseen and silent Hermione.

When Severus opened the door to his rooms, he smiled. The living room was lit only by candles and firelight. The dining table was set elegantly for two, with crystal glassware and silver utensils over a black tablecloth. In front of one of the place settings lay a package wrapped in silver paper with green ribbons.

Hermione poured each of them a glass of wine. They drank, then kissed tenderly. "This is wonderful, Hermione," he said softly.

"I arranged it with Zecky," she confessed. "Open your present."

The package was rectangular, but too thin to be a book. He opened it with interest, and out fell what was clearly a muggle magazine. "Logic Problems," he read. He slowly flipped through it, seeing pages of writing and grids. Attached was a sharp pencil. He was familiar with pencils, but they were not common in the wizarding world.

"I remembered the puzzle you set to guard the Philosopher's Stone in our first year," Hermione told him. "I thought you might like to try some muggle puzzles."

He smiled and drew her to him. "What a wonderful idea," he murmured. "Thank you."

After the amazing meal that Zecky had prepared for them, they sat together by the fire and he once again flicked through the magazine.

Hermione giggled. "I can see you're itching to try out your puzzles," she said. "I'll get my book while you get started, and we can finish our wine. Not too long, though - I have plans for you in the bedroom!"

He smiled. "That sounds like the perfect end to a wonderful birthday."

* * *

By the end of the first week back at school, Snape had received all three of the sixth-year Potions project drafts, and reviewed them with interest. Rivers and Cornfoot had done some exceptional work on poisons and antidotes, and their draft showed some promising results. He had called them both into his office, and given them carefully restrained praise for their efforts, along with some stern words about the areas where they needed to improve, and a warning about ensuring that their work was unique. "If I find that your final reports are simply re-phrasing of each other," he told them, "I shall assign a percentage for the whole project, and split the marks between you both!"

He reflected for a moment on the way that he spoke to students. He had always been severe on them, and had found it to be an effective approach. It made them want to work hard to avoid scorn and criticism. True, it terrified some of them, such as Longbottom, to the point where they were barely able to function in the class, but these were few and far between, and it did them good. The world was a tough place, and if they couldn't cope with an overbearing teacher, how would they cope with the harsh reality that was life? Whatever other people – even Hermione – thought about it, his style of teaching worked. Rivers and Cornfoot stood in front of him as he gave them his comments on their work, heads held high, and confident in themselves. The ones that had the sense enough to learn knew when he was pleased with them. The others struggled along acceptably, and for the worst – well, for every total incompetent, there was a helpful colleague to whisper instructions. He made sure that they never sat too far apart. His methods might not make him the most popular teacher in the school, but he found them effective.

As for Hermione's project – it was excellent, of course, but somehow it lacked the energy that he had expected. Technically, it was faultless, although it did sway heavily on the side of Potions, with less emphasis put on the Historical aspects, but he had been expecting more impact – more of her enthusiasm to come through. He would have to talk to her about that. In the meantime, the person he needed to see first about it was Professor Binns. He had received his own copy, and their comments back to the student would have to cover both subjects. He set off for the staffroom, to find him in his usual chair by the fire. They discussed Hermione's results, and agreed where she needed to focus her work. Definitely more research needed on the history side – probably a deeper analysis of whether the wizards in question were developing truly unique approaches, or were simply continuing earlier work. Snape almost smiled at the uncharacteristic enthusiasm Binns showed in the project. It seemed that Hermione was one of the few students who took a genuine interest in the History of Magic, and it was unusual to see the ghost acting as though he were not dead, for once.

Snape turned to leave the staffroom, but stopped as Professor McGonagall entered. "Ah, Severus. Just the wizard I wanted to see," she smiled. "May we talk?"

"Of course." They moved to two armchairs at the side of the staffroom and sat down, Severus wondering what this would be about. Probably nothing, he told himself. Just House business – nothing to do with Hermione Granger.

"It's about Hermione Granger," began McGonagall.

Snape managed to get some impatience into his voice. "What about her, Minerva?"

McGonagall faced him squarely, clearly showing some puzzlement. "Albus told me of your wish to put her in for her Potions N.E.W.T. a year early, and I was curious as to your reasons."

He fielded this with a question. "Don't you think she's ready for it?" he asked her, knowing that she could give only one answer.

"Of course she's ready, Severus," came the quick reply, " but over the years that you have been teaching here, there must have been plenty of other students who would also have qualified. What is so special about Miss Granger?"

Everything was special about her - the way she smiled, her hair in the sunlight, the touch of her hands on his bare skin, her moans of pleasure as they made love. He caught himself, and forced his thoughts back to the conversation. He could go on for hours about what was so special about Miss Granger, but that probably wasn't what her head of house meant!

He steepled his fingers together in front of him. "Ms. Granger is an exceptional student, Minerva, and you know that I am not one to over exaggerate the competencies of a student. Not only does she have ability far beyond anyone I have ever taught, she also has a genuine 'feel' for Potions. She understands the mystery and the art, and I do not feel that I could, with conscience, hold her back."

McGonagall considered this, thoughtfully. "I don't doubt that," she said, "but why should that imply she should take the test early? Surely, she would be better to remain in the class to continue learning, even if she is well beyond the rest of the year?"

"Ms. Granger is no longer learning much in my class," he stated, truthfully. "There is little value in a lesson that cannot challenge an agile mind, and I cannot give her that challenge without taking time from the rest of the class. If she chooses to pursue her Potions studies after completion of her N.E.W.T., which I am confident she will do, then I would be more able to challenge her by involving her in more complex subjects."

"Are you suggesting independent research during her final year?"

Why was she interfering like this, he wondered, irritably. "I am suggesting that she take the exam at the point when she is ready for it, and that she decides on the further direction, when the time comes!"

McGonagall at last seemed to accept this, even if she was not completely satisfied with the answer. Once Dumbledore had agreed, there was little for McGonagall to do but accept, but he supposed he couldn't question her wish to protect the interests of the woman he loved.

After a long pause, the deputy Headmistress smiled, and said, "Very well. I see no reason why Miss Granger should not be permitted to continue, if this is what she wishes."

"Thank you, Minerva," he replied, trying his best not to sound too cold, despite his irritability. Whatever happened in the future, maintaining civility now would likely make life easier. He nodded to the Professor, stood from the chair, and left the staffroom.

* * *

On the Tuesday of the following week, Severus studied Hermione's naked body as she slept beside him. It was morning and soon she would have to get back to Gryffindor tower, but for now she was all his. He traced the lines of her body with his eyes – her soft face, those tender breasts, smooth skin – his gaze fell on the pendant he had given her for Christmas. It lay against her chest, glowing softly, and he smiled. Thinking of that had been a moment of inspiration, and he knew how much she loved it.

He would not be seeing her that evening, and he thought regretfully about the fact that he had to last the whole day without her. He woke her with a kiss, and she stretched luxuriously as she stirred. The arching movement of that lithe, supple body made his own respond quickly and visibly. Leaning over her, he pressed his hardness against her thigh, and she smiled at the touch.

"I can tell you're wide awake this morning," she whispered.

By the time he fell into bed, alone, that night, he would look back on this moment and reflect that making love to Hermione that morning had been the only good thing that had happened to him all day.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** 4-Sept-2018_

 _My apologies for this chapter taking so long to publish. It's been a tiring few weeks, and very busy with my kids off school. Hopefully, now that I have a little more time to myself, I will be able to update more regularly again._

 _Logic Problems is a magazine that I used to get when I lived in England. Whenever family or friends visit, I always ask them to bring me back a copy of the latest edition._

 _Please review. I love hearing what people think of each new chapter._


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